


Harry Potter and the Rise of the Resistance

by EliteDelieght, punkrockbadger



Series: rewrite potter [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Character of Color, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Racism, depictions of ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 101,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliteDelieght/pseuds/EliteDelieght, https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockbadger/pseuds/punkrockbadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The storm has arrived, and Harry Potter is very much in need of an umbrella. Between the media, his fellow students, and Lord Voldemort, it almost seems as if everyone in the world is out to get him. This would be a normal year, in his book, if it weren't for the fact that it's no longer just Harry at risk. Another Potter sibling has arrived at Hogwarts, and hopefully, that won't mean twice the mayhem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter clocks in at almost 8.2k, making it the longest Rewrite chapter ever! We've broken that record with two book chapters in a row, within the past three weeks, and both of us are finding that incredible. The words are coming easier, I guess, now that we're in the thick of the series, and we're glad you're all enjoying it as much as we are!
> 
> This book, our little Charu joins her brother off at school, and we're so excited for you to get to know her along the course of this book. Hari loves her very much and we hope you will too!
> 
> Have a great week, and we'll see you next Friday for Chapter Two!
> 
> -S&L

If he were to rank all of the summers he could remember, Harry Potter thought, this one would be right at the bottom. No, in fact, it would be below the bottom. So far below the bottom that it’d get wedged in all the molten metal at the middle of the earth and stay there. He shoved his spoon hard into his bowl of cereal, hoping to take out his anger on a particularly strange looking Cheerio, but it evaded the spoon neatly, leaving him even more unsatisfied than before. This summer, frankly, had sucked balls.

Of course, there had been bright spots here and there-- visits and letters from Neville, Hermione and Ron, a few good nights of sleep here and there, untouched by nightmares-- but, largely, the summer had been exhausting, and school promised to be much of the same. It was scary to see how much things had changed since the graveyard, Harry thought gravely, before putting the matter out of his head.

There would be another bright spot today, in fact, probably within the next hour, and he’d have to save up all the joy he could muster for it, which, unfortunately, wasn’t very much.

Today, Sarah was going to be getting her Hogwarts letter.

It had been a momentous occasion, four years ago, when Harry had received his, but the air of solemnity that had enveloped the Potter house likely wouldn’t lend itself to the celebratory mood Harry’s letter had evoked. No, this would be different, but Harry was determined to make it worth remembering.

Sarah hadn’t been getting the best of his efforts all summer, and now, he was going to make up for it. It was long past time to put his problems aside and be a halfway decent older brother to Sarah (and the triplets, for that matter) again, and this was the perfect time to do it.

The triplets, to their credit, had tried their best to keep the mood light for the past few months.

Anne had made it her personal mission to distract Harry from his own thoughts, with Drew as her ever-present backup. There had been impromptu quidditch games, candies forced upon him, and even the occasional demand to help reenact scenes from Lord of the Rings. Matt had taken up a quieter role, as he often did, sitting with his siblings at odd hours of the morning or night when no one could sleep. He had been growing distant lately, retreating into himself under the heavy atmosphere that had descended upon the house.

Harry heard footsteps thumping down the stairs, and turned toward them to see Sarah slowly climbing down them, a rather thick book tucked under her arm.

She’d been rather quiet lately as well, sticking to her reading as if her life depended upon it, and he hadn’t yet thought of a way to approach her about it. He hoped it didn’t stick, because if she went off to Hogwarts reading all the time like that, she’d have a tough time making friends. Sarah already had a tough enough time with making friends, as her interests were quite odd to most kids her age, save for her enthusiasm for sports, which could only be matched by Ginny Weasley. She had always blended into the edges of a group of his friends or the triplets’ instead of making any of her own, and Harry was resolutely ignoring the very real possibility that she would be alone at Hogwarts, considering there was no way in hell she’d be sorted into Gryffindor with him.

He had been lucky enough to come to Hogwarts with a built in friend group, having grown up with Ron, Neville and the other kids born during the First War, but Sarah hadn’t had that security blanket-- there was a three year gap between Sarah and Ginny, the closest in age to her in their group, and although they were quite good friends, Harry worried that Ginny wouldn’t want to spend time with a firstie, as a fourth year. He certainly wouldn’t have, last year, and he hoped, for his sister’s sake, that Ginny was different.

“Morning.” He called out to her, as she took a seat across the table from him.

“Hey.” She said, immediately laying her book on the table and opening it to the page she’d bookmarked. Harry sighed. He knew she wasn’t likely to end up in Gryffindor, but he hoped she would, all the same-- if she ended up somewhere like Ravenclaw, or, god forbid, Slytherin, he wouldn’t really be able to help her out as easily. Harry was rubbish at both riddles and being a blood purist asshole, which would make getting in with either group quite difficult.

Lily appeared a moment later, tying her hair back with one of Anne’s sparkly hair ties. She paused upon seeing her two eldest children, a tired smile melting across her face. She moved to kiss the top of Sarah’s head, ruffling Harry’s hair as she passed. “Oh, my babies are growing up. When did I get so old?”

“You’re not old.” Sarah said matter of factly, shrugging as she turned the page.

“You’re not.” Harry agreed, nodding as he looked up at his mother. From the way she was looking at him, he felt as if he should say more, but he didn’t know exactly what to say. It was if all the words that had been marching around in circles in his head, waiting for him to say them, had all run away, since what had happened in June. He never really knew what to say, anymore, and had started keeping to himself more and more as a result, and he could tell that was bothering both of his parents.

“Wait till you’re my age.” Lily sighed, resting her hands on Harry’s shoulders. She looked as though there were more she wanted to say, but eventually just let out a breath and pasted on a smile. “You’ll be wishing you were a kid again.”

“I’d rather not be.” Sarah spoke up, shutting her book. She’d evidently realized that she wasn’t going to make any substantial progress in her reading while there was a conversation to be had, and Harry wondered how it had taken her eleven years of life in the Potter household for her to finally realize that. “Hari said I was an annoying baby.”

“You were fine until you started talking.” Harry said, shrugging. “Then it got worse.”

“Vote of confidence.” Sarah said dryly. “I like it.”

“Hari was just jealous that he wasn’t getting all the attention, suddenly.” Lily said.

“Doesn’t excuse him telling you to give me back to the hospital.” Sarah said, crossing her arms. Harry thought she was holding a grudge over nothing-- he’d said that as an angry three and a half year old, unused to coming second to his parents, and here she was, eleven years later, still bothered over it. That was his sister, though-- she had the memory of an elephant, and the grudge holding temperament of a toddler, and he wouldn’t have her any other way. “That was just rude.”

“Actually”, James Potter called from the kitchen, “he told us to put you back where you came from. That would’ve been uncomfortable for everyone involved, so we kept you instead.”

“The best decision you’ve ever made.” Sarah said, cracking a smile. It was hesitant and half-baked, like she wasn’t quite sure whether she actually wanted to smile or not, and Harry felt a rush of concern sweep through him.

“The worst.” Harry said softly, shaking his head. Two months ago, they would’ve used this as the jumping off point for an argument, would’ve yelled at each other for hours just for the hell of it, but he didn’t even need to look at Sarah to know she, like him, was too tired to even consider it.

“I like Charu", said Matt’s voice, from under the table, and a softer, more genuine smile lifted the corners of Sarah’s lips up.

“That’s one, then.” Sarah said, lifting the tablecloth up with one hand to find Matt. She reached out to ruffle his hair with the other before leaving him to his own devices again. “Only three more to go.”

“Adi will be an easy sell.” Lily hummed. “Anju might be harder to convince.”

“You say ‘might be’ like it’s in doubt.” Sarah said, frowning. “Anju doesn’t like me at all.”

“You girls are scary when you get along.” Lily said fondly. “Even if it’s only for fifteen minutes at a time.”

“You’ll be less scared then, this year.” Sarah said. Her confidence seemed to waver, and the next time she spoke, a little bit of nervousness had bled into her voice. “You’ll only have the triplets to bother you.”

“We’re going to miss you so much.” Lily’s voice was suddenly serious, her green eyes focused on her daughter. “You know that, right?”

“Of course you will.” Sarah said, shrugging. That nervousness in her voice was gone, as if wiped from her memory, and Harry didn’t know whether she was genuinely feeling better or just hiding it. She was too good at the latter already for her own good, when anyone but Matt or their father was involved. “The quality of mealtime conversation will go right downhill, once I’m off at school, and then you’d have to miss me, even if you didn’t before.”

Matt’s hand appeared from under the tablecloth, patting gently at Sarah’s leg. “I miss you already.” He said gravely, and Sarah reached under the table again, apparently to pinch his cheek, judging by the soft yelp Harry heard next.

“Me too.” Sarah said, before patting the chair next to her. “Come on out of there, Madhu. It’s not safe, hiding under the table like that. Who knows what germs Hari’s feet have on them?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there with her.” Harry said, hoping it would offer some comfort. Of all of the siblings, Matt had always been the closest to Sarah, and Sarah had always been closest to Matt. The two of them had always been alike in temperament, a little more sensitive than the rest, and that had led them to stick together like they’d been superglued to each other’s sides. Being separated, even if only for three months, would be tough on both of them. “Nothing to worry about when I’m around, right?”

“I’d say the opposite, actually.” Sarah said, the words coming out a lot more bitterly than she’d anticipated, judging by the surprised look on her face afterward. She quickly opened her book to the page she’d bookmarked, staring at the page intensely as if the whole world around her would disappear if she tried hard enough to ignore it. Matt slowly crawled out from beneath the table, the only sound in the quiet kitchen. He settled his head against Sarah’s shoulder, eyes downcast. Sarah put an arm around Matt’s shoulders, in an effort to keep him close by, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

Everyone in the room settled into an uneasy silence, and Harry went back to picking at his cereal, which was now soggy and looked quite unappetizing. He heaved a deep sigh before looking wistfully toward the stairs. There wasn’t much else in the world that sounded better than hiding away in his room again, as he’d been doing often over the last two months, and burying himself deep in the cocoon of blankets he’d built himself. But his father would kill him over wasting food, if he left now, and, if Harry had to die, he would much rather it be for something more heroic.

He was reminded, suddenly, of how close he’d come to death in the graveyard. He could almost hear the spells whizzing past his face, and the scar on his forearm throbbed angrily, like the very mention of how it had come to be had brought the pain back from wherever it was hiding, roaring like some angry beast.

His heavy thoughts were interrupted by Anne’s entrance, her red hair still wet from the shower. “I feel like I just walked into a funeral.” She said, taking in the silence that hung over her family like a rain cloud.

“Did Amma try to cook breakfast without Appa again?” Drew’s voice drifted in from the stairs, and a moment later his face appeared around the doorframe.

“Your funeral.” Sarah said, although it lacked the bite it would have carried, had Anne been only minutes earlier.

“You’re fired.” Lily told Drew. “I can cook just fine without your father.”

“Has the mail come in yet?” James asked, sounding quite nervous. “Someone should see about the mail. I should see about the mail. Anju, could you watch the stove for a second?”

“I’ll do it!” Anne called, already heading towards the counter.

“You can’t run from me, Potter!” Lily called.

“I can damn well try!” James yelled back, and Harry shook his head, sighing. His parents were ridiculous.

“One day, this will be you.” Lily warned her eldest son, as if she had read his thoughts.

“That’s solved easily enough. When I get married, I’ll just marry someone who agrees with me.” Harry said, shrugging. “It’ll make life a lot easier.”

“Why even get married in the first place?” Sarah said, bringing up an excellent point. “That’s a better place to start.”

“You know what? Add me to your list.” Harry said, nodding. “Two out of four.”

“What list?” Anne asked from the stove.

“We’re counting up how many of us like Charu.” Harry called back. “Yes or no?”

“I’ll pass.” Anne said teasingly. “At least till she goes away. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“I still don’t like Aunt Petunia, and we barely ever see her.” Drew shrugged, taking a seat at the table.

“Even Amma doesn’t like Aunt Petunia.” Sarah shrugged. “I heard her telling Appa that she wants to punch her in the face, sometimes.”

“I want to do that literally all the time.” Anne said seriously.

“No violence inside the house.” Lily said mildly.

“So if we punch her outside, we’re okay?” Sarah asked curiously. “Not that I’m intending to, of course.”

“As long as you pretend I didn’t give you permission.” Lily decided after a moment of thought.

“Anju, we have much to discuss.” Sarah said, looking quite satisfied.

“I think what your mother wants to say is that there’s no violence allowed _anywhere_ , right, Lily? Anyway, I’ve got a very special letter for a very special little lady.” James said, finally joining the rest of his family at the table. He was holding a letter with a familiar seal on the back, and set it down on Sarah’s still open book, ruffling her hair. “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?”

“That’s alright.” Sarah said quietly, after a few beats of silence, picking up the letter and setting it down on the table instead. She turned back to her book, and Matt moved closer to her, as if sensing a shift in her mood. “I know what it says, already.”

Harry, so ready to congratulate her and make a ridiculously big deal of it until she yelled at him to stop, felt like a deflating balloon. This was because of him, wasn’t it? As he looked around the table, he noticed that all of his siblings had that familiar, tired look on their faces, all looking at the Hogwarts letter as if it were less a gift and more of an obligation. They should be happy about this, he thought fiercely, should be dreaming happily about what houses they’d be sorted into and the friends they’d make, but instead, all of them were worrying, and the triplets wouldn’t even be starting until next year.

“Hari, will you still eat your shoe if Charu doesn’t end up in Slytherin?” Drew asked, but the attempt at humor fell flat as everyone continued staring at the unopened envelope.

“She’s got her head in a book all the time. I don’t think Slytherin’s an option, really.” James cut in, probably worried that Harry would indeed have committed to eating his shoe still. Harry rolled his eyes. His father needn’t have worried-- he would’ve just lied about having done it, and probably get Ron to agree with him so he’d have a “witness”.

“Do you wanna be in Ravenclaw, Charu?” Matt asked quietly.

“I know I’d rather not be in Gryffindor, so anywhere else is fine.” Sarah shrugged. “I suppose I’ll find out more when I get there.”

“What’s wrong with Gryffindor?” Harry piped up, frowning.

“You.” Sarah replied easily.

“Hey, I’m probably gonna be in Gryffindor, too!” Anne protested.

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with you.” Sarah said, frowning. “Just Hari. We’ve always known that.”

“Why do you have to make everything about me?” Harry grumbled.

“Because we’re too used to you doing it.” Sarah sighed.

“Let someone else hog the spotlight for once.” Anne agreed, reaching out to lower the heat on the stove. “Appa, the food is done.”

“I keep leaving you in charge.” James said, shaking his head. “You’re ten now, so it’s not as bad, but wow.” He rushed over to the stove, ruffling Anne’s hair. “Thanks.”

Anne smiled proudly, moving to take her seat next to Drew.

“We still have a year left till Hogwarts.” Drew said. When he spoke about Hogwarts, it wasn’t with anticipation or disappointment. It was almost as though he were counting down to a deadline he was dreading.

“Enjoy it.” Harry said, shaking his head. “School’s horrid. Not to put you off school, Charu.”

“What? You think this know-it-all hasn’t been raring to go for the past five years?” Anne snorted.

“Don’t call your sister names.” Lily said, placing plates down on the table.

“Calling me a know-it-all is just rude.” Sarah said, frowning. “And it’s not just her, Amma, Appa does it too.”

“James, no calling our daughter names.” Lily sighed.

“I at least had the decency to hide it behind the language barrier.” James sighed. “You know I only do it because I’m going to miss you being at home with us.”

“You’re going to see me every day.” Sarah said, honestly puzzled. “What’s changing, for you?”

“Well, for one, my little girl’s all grown up.” James said, and Sarah groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fine, fine, we’ll cut it out.”

“Thank you.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “You didn’t fuss this much when Hari went off to school.”

“That’s cause he fussed over us instead.” James snorted.

Lily planted a kiss on top of Sarah’s head, sliding a plate in front of her before moving to her own seat. “We’re always just an owl away, honey.” She reminded her. “Or a hallway away, in your father’s case.”

“I’m not talking to him in public if I don’t have to.” Sarah said decisively.

“He stops trying, after a while.” Harry said, nodding.

“Maybe he was just embarrassed you called him Professor Dad.” Drew grinned.

“It’s been four years, Adi. Let it go.” Harry groaned.

“An elephant never forgets.” Matt sang under his breath.

“Adi’s not an elephant.” Harry said. “He has no excuse.”

“Maybe my patronus is an elephant.” Drew hummed.

“Nah.” Harry shook his head. “You’re probably something fluffier. More friendly.”

“A duck.” Matt suggested.

“A kitten!” Anne clapped her hands together.

“Besides, male elephants are useless. They’re not even a proper part of the herd.” Sarah shrugged. “I’ve no idea why you’d want to be one.”

“Elephant herds sound a lot like our family.” Harry said, after a moment’s thought, then quickly stopped himself in his tracks when he saw Sarah and Anne glaring at him.

“Elephants are big and can stomp on things, and they have a good memory.” Drew said thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’d be so bad.”

“You do like stomping on things.” Harry nodded.

“Speaking of stomping on things, Charu’s going to do a wonderful job at school this year, and hopefully set a good example for her older brother, who would do well to apply himself more seriously, with exams coming up.” James said, looking pointedly at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“You know, legally, I can leave school after taking my OWLs.” Harry said casually. “Besides, Appa, it’s not like you applied yourself your OWL year either. And you’ve ended up alright.”

“I have an entire list of references who would beg to disagree, starting with this fine lady over here.” James said dryly, pointing to Lily. “Alright. Let’s eat, and then we’ve got book lists to go over for the both of you. We can probably reuse a couple of Hari’s old books for you-- I don’t think Flitwick or McGonagall has changed anything about their curriculums in a while, and it’s not worth it to pay the extra money.”

Sarah nodded seriously, obviously in agreement with her father’s plan.

“I’ve drawn in them. All of them.” Harry whispered across the table, winking at Sarah, who looked absolutely terrified. “Have fun at school this year.” He sat back in his chair, feeling a little better. Maybe he was getting back into the swing of things.

* * *

Harry woke from restless slumber, sitting up sharply as the latest nightmare came to a close, to the sound of hesitant knocking at his door, and opened bleary green eyes to see a familiar figure in the doorway. Neville was standing there, the mud stained sleeves of his green flannel shirt rucked up to his elbows, a soft smile spread across his face like a warm blanket. Harry fumbled for his glasses, finding them on the bedside table, and shoved them on quickly, nearly stabbing himself in the ear in the process. “Neville?”

“That’s me.” Neville said softly, before padding over to sit on the edge of Harry’s bed. “You look shattered.”

“You know me.” Harry said easily. It never failed to surprise him how easily that statement rolled out of his mouth, without a particle of doubt attached to it. Neville knew him, all of him, knew the ins and outs and strange twists and turns, for better or for worse. “Can’t sleep for crap.”

“You’ve never been the best at that.” Neville said, smiling ruefully, as Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, scooting forward on the bed until he was sitting beside him. “Another thing about you we’ll have to fix.” He reached out, closing the space between them as he traced down the jagged line down Harry’s upper arm with the tip of his thumb. His eyes flicked toward the healed over knife cut down his forearm, an even darker shade of brown than the rest of Harry’s skin. “Mum and Dad… they won’t tell me anything. But I know something happened. You were missing, and now you’ve come back with these new scars and… It was all so strange, I don’t know.” Neville’s brow wrinkled in concern as he spoke, and Harry wanted nothing more than to wipe the worry off his face, to give him back the innocent, sweet smile he’d worn like a comfortable sweater while standing in the doorway.

“I was… I was on my way to the bathroom, right? While we were on the train? And I’d stopped outside your compartment, and I saw you laughing, and I guess that knocked me off my stride, a bit, ‘cause I didn’t notice Peter.” Harry said, reaching out shakily to tangle his fingers with Neville’s. Neville threaded his fingers through Harry’s with an easy kind of grace, squeezing Harry’s hand tight, and Harry smiled a smile that was just barely there, more a suggestion than a statement, feeling a little reassured.

“Peter? Peter Pettigrew?” Neville asked, confused, and Harry nodded.

“Fast forward a bit, lots of running, lots of crying, lots of fighting, blood, gore, whatnot, and Peter resurrects Voldemort. So he fights me and I run for it, obviously, and then, all of a sudden, I’m right at the end of the drive.” Harry said, trying his best to ignore how his hands were shaking. This kind of shaking wasn’t all anxiety, couldn’t be entirely soothed away with Neville’s mere presence like it had been at the lake. He shoved all those nasty thoughts away into a dark corner of his mind, and then decided never to touch them again. “Amma got me inside, healed me right up, and that was that.”

“Sounds like you”, Neville said thoughtfully, after a rather long pause, “had quite a rough day.” He untangled his fingers from Harry’s, instead pulling Harry into an embrace. Harry’s head ended up wedged uncomfortably between Neville’s chin and shoulder, and he was quite sure his neck would start aching if they stayed like this, but it would be the sort of ache worth having, the sort of ache you remember and treasure.

“Yeah”, Harry said, shaking his head. His temple bumped against Neville’s collarbone, and he could hear his boyfriend’s heartbeat thumping loud and steady against his jaw. A smile bloomed on his face, like the bright orange flowers that grew in the front yard every spring. “I had a rough day, and T-Rexes are just big dinosaurs.”

“So, he’s back then.” Neville asked, looking to Harry. “And he’ll be after you.”

“I hope not.” Harry said, sighing deeply. As he’d predicted, his neck was starting to feel sore, but he didn’t want to move just yet. Not while Neville was warm, solid and steady, and still here. “But he likely will be. So, uh, this is your out.” The words were shaking as much as his hands, and Harry didn’t dare meet Neville’s eyes when he said them.

“My what?” Neville asked, confused. He shifted away, lifting Harry’s chin with a finger so he could look him in the eye, and suddenly it wasn’t just Harry’s neck that was aching.

“Your out.” Harry repeated slowly, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest as he said the words. “If, at any point in time, this gets too hard for you, we’ll call us off, no questions asked, and go back to being friends. No consequences, no nothing. I promise I won’t make it weird if you don’t.”

“Harry, we won’t need that.” Neville said, sounding quite determined, and Harry leaned over to leave a quick peck on Neville’s lips. He moved to pull away, but Neville kept him close with a hand on the side of his face, and Harry jokingly bumped their foreheads together, like they used to as little kids. Neville brushed his thumb over the line of Harry’s cheekbone, as if wiping away nonexistent tears, and Harry smiled again, but a little more hesitantly, this time.

Neither of them were little kids, anymore.

“I said if, Nev. Not when.” Harry said, but some strange sensation roiled in his stomach, making him wonder if he’d chosen the wrong word.

* * *

“Hari!” Harry heard his father yell his name from behind him, the sound of him thundering down the stairs background noise as he paid the owl who brought them the Prophet like he did every morning, when he was home. “Paakkaathe, please--” (Don’t look at it, please.)

Harry, who often thought his father’s warnings were rubbish, unfolded the paper despite being told not to, and stared in shock at his own face, from his Year Six school photo, staring back at him from the front page, under the bold, blocky headline “Harry Potter, Mad or Malicious?”. “Potter claims You-Know-Who is back in his latest bid for attention”, read the line under it, and Harry felt as if he wanted to throw up. He was trembling violently as it was, barely able to keep his calm, and dropped the paper on the kitchen floor before sprinting up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Barely a moment had passed before there was a knock at the door. “Sweetheart?” His mother said softly, from the other side of the door.

Harry burrowed deeper into his blankets. “Go away.” He muttered, self-loathing stabbing him sharply in the gut as he realized how pathetic he sounded. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he wiped them roughly on his blanket before pulling it over his head.

The door swung open anyways, and his mother’s familiar footsteps approached the bed.

“Amma, I said no.” Harry whined, from deep within his blanket cocoon, and Lily took a seat next to him. “Go away.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She murmured, reaching out to run her hand through the hair that was visible above his nest of blankets.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Harry muttered, heaving a sigh. He peeked out through a hole he’d left for air to get in and out, noticing that his mother looked concerned. Her age was apparent in her face, just then, deep lines carved into her skin in the absence of her smile. “I’m sorry.” He said dejectedly, ashamed that he’d worried her.

“What are mothers for?” She scooted closer, moving to lay down next to him.

“All you’ve gotta do is look at the paper anyway.” He said bitterly, shaking his head as he wormed his face out of the blankets.

“What’s in the paper?” She seemed surprised by his words, reaching out to stroke at his face.

“I’ve brought it up here so you can see for yourself.” Harry turned toward the doorway to see his father, the morning paper clutched in his hands so tightly that Harry thought it might rip. The paper was handed off to his mother, as if his father couldn’t wait to be rid of it, and the head of the bed dipped under his father’s weight, a warm hand softly carding through his unruly hair. Harry relaxed slightly, the familiar feeling digging up memories of being comforted after scrapes to the knee, or arguments with his siblings. This was much larger than that, though-- on the order of what had happened his second year, if not even larger and more terrifying.

The paper crinkled beneath Lily’s shaking hands. Her green eyes narrowed and her expression grew to resemble a fury Harry had rarely witnessed as she continued reading. It took her less than a minute to begin ripping the paper to shreds, crumpling it up in her fist before discarding it. “This is bullshit.” She said, her voice shaking. “Don’t you listen to them, Hari. We all know the truth. This will blow over in no time, and even if it doesn’t I have half a mind to march down there and pound the stupid out of them.”

“The last time this happened”, Harry began hesitantly, “I don’t think it ever really stopped. Just got… quieter.” He could feel his father tense next to him, and knew that at least he understood what Harry was getting at. “Now, they’ve got a reason again.”

He couldn’t handle a repeat of his second year, wouldn’t be able to take the stares and whispered digs at his family this time around. It had been easier back in second year, because he hadn’t known what half of the words leveled at him had meant. Now, age and experience had robbed him of that innocence, and he doubted any shred of kindness would temper their words, now. He had at least looked the part of a child, then. Now, he no longer had that on his side.

He’d grown a couple inches over the summer, and was slowly gaining on his father’s height, now that he’d passed up his mother. Uncle Sirius had joked several times within the last week alone that, if Harry changed his glasses and shut his eyes, people might actually start getting confused about who they were talking to, so long as he and his father weren’t in the same room.

“There will always be a reason.” James said carefully. “We have come back from it before, and we will again.” The words sounded well-worn, as if his father had said them to himself many times before, and Harry’s heart felt like it had been stomped on by a primary school worth of children on their way to the playground. “Do not, under any circumstances, blame yourself, Hari. This is the work of a horrible, horrible person, and a whole system that needs to be burnt to the ground.” The anger that his father had been trying to keep under wraps slowly seeped into his voice, and Harry found himself feeling a little glad for it. “A lot of others know you’re telling the truth, and that’s a bigger head start than we had your second year.”

“Hey, I’m only crazy this time, not a mass murderer.” Harry said, trying to sound cheerful. “It’ll be less of a problem that way, since people won’t be getting petrified right and left.” Both of his parents’ expressions grew unduly solemn, leaving them looking nervous and frail, and it was his father who spoke up first.

“You may not be.” James said, looking away from his wife and son toward the door of the room, as if reliving some old memory. “But we know who is.”

“We’ll always be on your side, Hari.” Lily reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “We aren’t just going to sit back and let this happen. You-Know-Who isn’t going to get a chance to come back a third time, if it’s up to us.”

“Between you, me and Appa, he doesn’t have a chance in hell.” Harry said, cracking a smile.

“Language, Hari.” James cautioned.

“I forgot to tell you.” Harry said, nudging his father’s hand with the back of his head. “He doesn’t have his nose back.”

“Serves him right.” James said, looking quite smug.

“Well,” Lily hummed, “I guess we’ll have to punch something else off of him, this time.”

“We’ll find something.” James said, chuckling. “Now that he’s got a whole bunch of body parts, we’ve got a wide array of choices.”

“All of them.” Harry said decisively. “Let’s punch off all of them.”

“We’ve raised a good boy, Lily.” James said, smiling at his son.

“The very best.” Lily agreed, planting a kiss on Harry’s forehead.

Harry cracked a smile. He wasn’t the best kid, by a long shot, but one thing was true. He definitely had the very best parents around.

* * *

There was a knock at her bedroom door, and Sarah looked up from Hogwarts, A History to find her mother smiling at her from the doorway. Hermione Granger had sent her a copy upon hearing that Sarah had received her Hogwarts letter, along with a recommendation that she read it fully at least thrice before getting to school for the first time. “Do you have an opening in your schedule?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, putting the book aside. She was already nearly through the fifth time around, after nearly two and a half months of obsessively reading, rereading and taking notes on everything from the behavior of the staircases to which portraits were safe to talk to on which floors, and she supposed there wasn’t much about Hogwarts that she didn’t know, at this point. She quickly slid the notes she’d been adding to under the book, in the hopes that her mother wouldn’t see them and joke about it like Drew had. On the bright side, she would be much less likely to embarrass herself by getting lost than the other first years, which would be a significant advantage over her peers. “I’m not doing anything terribly important.”

“Are you all packed and ready to go?” Lily asked, the mattress dipping as she sat down beside her daughter. “I can help you out if you aren’t, but I have a feeling you’re a little more prepared than your brother was.”

“I’ve been packed since last week.” Sarah said, shrugging. “There’s an itemized list, if you want to make sure I’ve got everything I should have.”

“Nah, I trust you.” She said. “How are you doing, though?”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, puzzled.

“Well, tomorrow is a big day. Are you nervous?” Lily asked.

“No.” Sarah said, as if the thought of it was absurd. Harry hadn’t been nervous, so why should she be? She’d judged all her actions with regard to the upcoming school year, from the day she’d realized that she would be getting her letter soon, by that standard-- what had Harry done at her age, and how could she measure up, if not exceed the bar he’d set. He hadn’t been nervous, so she wasn’t either. That, of course, was completely a lie, but she was trying her level best to keep that under wraps.

“Really?” Lily hummed. “I remember when I was about to go off to Hogwarts. I didn’t really know what to expect, and I wouldn’t know anything going in. I read Hogwarts, A History a couple of times just to prepare myself, you know? I was excited… but also pretty scared.”

“That makes sense.” Sarah said, nodding thoughtfully. “I’ve read it a few times as well. Didn’t want to miss any details, considering Hari’s only advice was ‘don’t make hissing noises in the second floor girl’s bathroom’.”

“That’s pretty solid advice.” Lily agreed, reaching out to put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

“Isn’t that where he summoned the snake from?” Sarah asked curiously.

She didn’t remember much of her brother’s first two years at Hogwarts, having been far too young to truly understand the extent of the danger he’d been in. At eight, the most she’d understood was that Ginny had been in danger, and then, just as suddenly as she had been missing, she wasn’t, because Sarah’s own brother had managed to pull off a miracle. Of course, although young enough to not understand the situation entirely, she had been more than old enough to doubt Harry’s contribution to it endlessly, and had only stopped when Ginny had asked her to.

“Yup.” Lily nodded, dark red hair spilling over her shoulder. She rarely left it down these days. “It was a pretty giant snake, honestly.”

“Don’t worry.” Sarah said, more confidently than she felt. From the way Harry had explained it, when she’d finally asked him about everything that had happened, it was mostly an accident-- he’d honestly made the decision to stop seeking out trouble, once he’d gone off to Hogwarts, and had done an admirable job of sticking to it. The only problem was that trouble hadn’t been done with him, and she was quite worried that it would mark her as its next target. “I’m not going to do anything like that.”

“I didn’t think you would, honey.” She chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of Sarah’s head. “Your brother has a knack for getting himself into trouble, but I can’t imagine you doing half of what he does. Not that a little rebellion ever hurt anyone. Emphasis on the little, though.”

“Amma?” Sarah asked hesitantly, leaning into her mother’s shoulder. While most of her siblings had always been aggressive in their quest for their mother’s affection, she, like Matt, had kept off to the side, for the most part, and waited her turn. The difference between her and Matt was that even Matt, eventually, would give up and run off to their mother. Sarah was not one for breaking. But now, she supposed, was as good a time as any to admit weakness-- she would not be seeing her mother until school let out in December, after tomorrow morning, and, if her letters took on a worried tone, they would be easy enough to ignore. “What House do you think I’ll be in?”

Lily hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side. “I think you’d be a good fit wherever you wanted to go, Charu. You’re smart enough to be a Ravenclaw, and brave enough to be a lion. You and Anju have enough ambition between the two of you to take down the entire Slytherin house, and we all know how hard you work.” She said. “You’re going to do great, no matter what.”

“I…” Sarah began, then went silent. She didn’t know how to say it, and she knew it would spread like wildfire once she did. Secrets never stayed secret long, in the Potter family, and this was one thing she needed to stay quiet forever. “I don’t know how I feel. About any of it.”

“That’s okay, honey. It’s a big turning point for you.” Lily assured her daughter. “It makes sense to be confused.”

“Promise not to laugh at me?” Sarah asked, deciding that she might as well trust her mother. Out of the whole family, she was the one who was least likely to air Sarah’s secrets for personal gain.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Lily said seriously.

“I… I know I’m not going to be a Gryffindor. I’m not brave, like you or Appa, and I don’t like fighting, like Hari does, and I don’t like running headfirst into trouble, but…” She trailed off with a sigh, hanging her head. This was stupid. She shouldn’t have brought it up at all. Her mother was going to laugh, and then one of her siblings would hear, and it would end up spreading throughout the family anyway. She should’ve just asked Uncle Remus, or even her father, who would make a joke or two about it, but would ultimately reply in his predictable way. But, now that she’d opened the topic, she might as well close it. “It sounds like it’ll be awful lonely anywhere else.”

Lily continued stroking Sarah’s hair, nodding quietly in response. Her eldest daughter had a tendency to close herself off, emotionally speaking. When she decided to talk about anything, it was almost always with James, in hushed tones, early in the morning. Sarah didn’t often seek out Lily for advice, and, given that, Lily was going to make the absolute best of this situation that she could.

“It’s just-- everyone I know’s there, and I know I’m not going to be, and…” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid, Charu.” Lily corrected her gently. “Being afraid of being alone is very normal. It isn’t like primary school, where you get to come home to your family at the end of the day. Hari is going to do everything he can to watch out for you, but being separated from him is going to be scary. You just have to turn on that Potter charm and try to make friends, yeah?”

“I’ll try.” Sarah said, nodding. “I don’t really have much of it, though.”

“Nonsense. Look at this pretty face.” Lily smacked a kiss to Sarah’s cheek, giving her a squeeze. “I believe in you.”

“That’s one person.” Sarah muttered. “It’s… It’s kind of always been Hari, and then the rest of us, and it’s weird to be doing this on my own, you know? Without the rest of them right behind me. I know, logically, I started primary without them, but I don’t remember that, so it doesn’t really count.”

“That’s true. You were too young to remember when they hadn’t been born yet. Being away from them for a bit might be good for you, you know?” Lily suggested.

“Maybe.” Sarah said, with a shrug. She scooted a little closer to her mother before speaking up again. “You’ll make sure they don’t leave Madhav out, right? ‘Cause he keeps worrying about that, and I won’t be there to yell at Anju, even though she doesn’t really listen to me anyway.”

“I think your yelling makes Madhav feel better about it.” Lily said. “But I promise to make sure he’s okay. He’ll probably write to you every week just to make sure you know.”

“Yeah. Why else would I do it?” Sarah said, as if this were an obvious conclusion. “Okay. If you say so.” She nodded seriously. “That’ll be nice, to hear from him.”

“He’s going to cry, you know. He misses you already.” Lily assured her. “I miss you already.”

“I’m right here, Amma, how can you miss me already?” Sarah asked, frowning. “Don’t let him cry too much. He gets even more upset because he’s crying, after a while, and Anju’s not above teasing him about it, especially if it’s got anything to do with me.”

“I’ll keep him distracted.” Lily laughed, rubbing her hand up and down Sarah’s arm. “But you have to promise to write to us, okay? Merlin knows Hari only remembers to once in a blue moon.”

“I doubt anything interesting will happen to me.” Sarah shrugged. “Certainly not anything worth writing about, but I’ll try. Worst comes to worst, I can probably criticize Appa’s teaching style for a few pages. It might become repetitive, after a few weeks.”

“You write about anything you want to, honey.” Lily said. “We’ll love it no matter what it says, and I’ll write a letter back to every single one you send.”

“I don’t really want to go, but I’ll do my best.” She said, nodding resolutely. “I promise.”

“That’s all I’d ever ask of you.” Lily said, planting one final kiss on Sarah’s forehead.

* * *

“Appa?” Sarah called out hesitantly. Harry was downstairs, washing dishes with their mother, as he always did the night before school, and she had found herself standing in the doorway of her father’s study, waiting for him to find an easy break point in his work. She didn’t mind the wait, as she often did the same to him-- in fact, she often found that they were quite similar, when it came to work habits, something that annoyed her mother to no end.

“Ennadaa, kannamma?” James asked, closing the book he was reading, before standing up. He pushed his glasses, which had nearly slid all the way down his nose, back up, grinning sheepishly. “Thunga mudiyalaiyaa?” (What’s wrong, sweetheart? Can’t sleep?)

“Maattintenaa?” Sarah asked, cracking a smile, as her father walked over to her. (Have you caught me?)

“Nallaa.” James said, grinning as he ruffled her hair, hand eventually settling on her shoulder. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?” (For sure.)

“Lots of stuff.” Sarah said, shrugging, before leaning into her father’s side a little. He pulled her closer for it, and that settled her nerves a little more. It was funny how being around her father always seemed to do that. “School, especially.”

“Modhal dharava veetta vittu kalambarache…. Konjam bhayamaa dhaan irukkum.” James said, sighing. She wasn’t surprised that he’d switched languages again-- he was always better with feelings in Tamil, claiming that words were tougher to find in English. She agreed-- she very much preferred the easily laid out, formulaic structure of Tamil to the mess of arbitrary rules English called grammar. “Enakkume bhayamaa dhaan irundhudhu.” (When you’re leaving home for the first time, it’s going to be scary. Hell, I was scared.)

“Ennoda Appavaa? Bhayamaa?” Sarah asked, feigning disbelief. She dissolved into laughter soon afterward, and James followed, shaking his head. (My daddy? Scared?)

“Seri, seri, adha udu, padikkarathu nallaa padi, annaava thoratthaathe…” James said, smiling, as he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. Sarah grumbled something about him being embarrassing, but was much happier for it. “Thunginaa dhaan themballaa irukkum. Padukka po.” (Alright, alright, leave that alone. Study well. Don’t stalk your brother. You’ll only have energy if you sleep, so go to bed.)

“Seri, Appa.” Sarah says, finally feeling at ease. She’d been nervous all afternoon, not sure how to put her feelings to words, but she should’ve known it would be this easy, after all that overthinking. “Neengalume.” (Sure, Dad. You too.)

“Setthona dhaan thunguven!” James said, a lot more loudly than he should have, with three other children asleep just down the hall, and Sarah laughed before heading off to her room. She would sleep a lot easier, now. (I’ll sleep when I’m dead!)

She checked her trunk one last time, before climbing in bed for the night, and found a silvery cloak folded neatly on top of all her meticulously packed things, a small square of paper on top of it, obviously meant for her to find.

She smiled as she read the words neatly written on the parchment, tucking it into the folds of the cloak afterward. The letter disappeared, and she stared at it in shock. An Invisibility Cloak? Why would her father give her this? The more she thought about the quick, three sentence letter, the more the gift made sense, though, and she shut the trunk, locking it securely, before climbing into bed and closing her eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and she’d face it bravely, knowing she had her father’s full confidence.

 

> _I still remember little baby Charu asking me if her Anna would come home from school. Hard to believe that was nearly ten years ago. This year, we’ll make sure it happens, and I think this gift will help._
> 
> _With love,_  
>  _Appa_


	2. A New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stood up, a bright smile on his face, clapping as loudly as he could. Hermione joined in, looking just as excited, just as Neville practically jumped up from his seat at the Hufflepuff table, cheering loudly. Ginny, not one to be outdone, stood up on the bench in order to clap more visibly. Ron’s cheers were mixed with laughter at his own sister’s antics.
> 
> “There are other children yet to be sorted.” Professor McGonagall said sternly, looking right at Harry, who grinned sheepishly. “We would all appreciate it if the commotion were to cease.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second Potter child's getting sorted this week! Let us know what you think of where we put her-- Lai and I definitely feel like we made the right choice, and hopefully people like it!
> 
> As always, leave comments and feel free to come talk to us about the direction we're taking things! We'll see you next Friday with another great chapter!
> 
> -S&L

By the time the Suprabhatam tape started playing, at six o'clock in the morning, Harry had long since tumbled out of bed, on most days. More so this summer than ever before-- he’d found himself hard pressed to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, and a call for God to wake up and face the day was more than enough motivation for him to do the same. Thankfully, he had always had company, in this attempt to connect with something larger than himself.

“Morning.” Harry said, as Sarah, eyelids still heavy with sleep, joined him, as she did every morning. This was something they’d done together since they could both remember, the two of them making their careful way down the stairs to the cabinet in which their father kept all the puja materials. He was always up even before them, so the two of them had always kept him company as well. Drew slept like the dead, much the same as their mother, but some mornings they were joined by Matt and Anne. The sound of Anne fumbling about in the bathroom hinted that she would be joining them in a few moments, and the idea of spending time with his sisters that didn’t involve a fight made Harry just a little more excited about being up this early.

“Morning.” She replied, rubbing at her eyes. The bright blue Little League Quidditch shirt she was wearing was a little too big on her, and, judging by the fact that when she turned around, he spotted an H. Potter written across the top in black marker, he was quite sure it wasn’t hers. Sarah had her own Little League Quidditch shirt, which, ironically, was most often worn by Matt. Harry sighed, shaking his head. None of them had ever really gotten the hang of having their own things, something which their parents had only encouraged.

They plodded into the living room to find their father sitting on the carpet in front of the cabinet, chanting along with the tape that was playing feet away from him. Sarah immediately ran for their father’s side, sitting down next to him before shooting an entirely alert grin over her shoulder at Harry.

That asshole, Harry thought, scowling. She’d been playing him the whole time.

He sat down at his father’s other side, shooting a glare at Sarah, and got a sharp slap on the knee from his father for his troubles. His father, even with his eyes closed, knew exactly what was happening. It was likely born of habit-- he’d been at this for much longer than they had, and he was just as used to Harry and Sarah’s patterns as they were.

The last stanza drew to a close, and James Potter took a deep breath, exhaling hard before looking to Harry and Sarah in turn. “Morning, maggots.” He said cheerfully, a smile lighting up his face. “Sleep well?”

“Bhagavan’s literally right there, and you still call us maggots.” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “And yes, I did.”

Anne stepped through the door, already dressed for the day. “Is Appa in trouble?” She asked.

“Not at all.” James said, motioning for Anne to come join them. “Charu’s just being her wonderful little self is all.” As if to prove that he sincerely meant his words, he put an arm around his oldest daughter’s shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“You mean she’s being a grumpy git?” Harry supplied, still bitter over having been beaten at something, especially so because it had been a foot race, so early in the morning. “Because that’s not wonderful.”

“Appa likes me better than you.” Sarah shot back, leaning into her father’s side. “Right, Appa?”

“Bhagavan doesn’t play favorites, and neither will I.” James replied, grinning, and Sarah groaned in frustration.

“Actually, he does.” Harry spoke up. “A lot.”

“Beside the point.” James said, laughing.

“Dibs on favorite.” Anne decided, plopping down beside her sister. “Cause I’m cute.”

“You’re all cute.” James said, shrugging. “You’re my kids. How could you turn out anything less than that?”

“Give Amma some credit.” Harry said.

“You’re right.” James nodded solemnly. “She can have fifty-one percent. I will settle for forty-nine.”

“That’s what I want out of life.” Harry said. “Someone who will be the fifty-one to my forty-nine.”

“You wouldn’t ever settle for forty-nine.” Sarah pointed out, and Harry nodded. That was very true.

“I think whoever Hari ends up marrying is going to have to have just as big a personality, just to keep up.” Anne said. “So in the end they’ll be, like. One-hundred-and-thirty percent, once you put them together.”

“You can’t have more than one hundred percent, Anju.” Sarah said, sighing.

“You’re really giving your all to that.” Harry said, before smirking. “Or, should I say, your one hundred and ten percent?”

Sarah reached across her father to slap Harry’s arm as hard as she could, sighing and retreating once given a warning look.

“I hate you both.” Anne sighed. “Can’t wait for you to go off to school.”

“Well, that’s mutual.” Sarah grumbled, scowling. Harry knew she was lying-- she’d miss all of them, just as he had when he’d first gone off to Hogwarts. That part of it never got easier, from year to year, and this year, he hardly wanted to go to school at all. He would be, though, in a few more hours, so getting used to the idea didn’t sound like too bad of a path to take.

“She’ll be gone in a few hours, and you’ll miss her a lot.” James said to Anne. “So you might as well be nice to her now, so that you aren’t both angry when she leaves, right?”

“I’m just going off to school.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not walking into a war zone.”

“Might as well be.” Anne sniffed. “After what happened to Hari last year.”

“Yeah.” Harry said, a lot more quietly than anyone had anticipated. “It might as well be.” The tone wouldn’t have sounded out of place, were it coming from Matt and not Harry, but it just seemed wrong coming from him. Harry rolled his shoulders awkwardly, looking around the room. He caught his father’s eyes for a brief second before looking away, the worry in them too much to handle at length.

“I’ve talked to the other staff members and the administration at length, and it’s going to be as safe as humanly possible for Hari and Charu there this year. If anything at all happens, then the option to do your work at home is also open to both of you. Given the current situation, no one would judge either of you for choosing that.” James said, looking between his two oldest children. Harry was very tempted to chicken out, just as he had been his second year, and judging by the look on Sarah’s face, so was she. But he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he wouldn’t leave Hogwarts even if it was on fire, just as he’d decided second year. Hopefully, Sarah would feel the same way.

“I want to go.” Sarah spoke up, staring at her feet. She wiggled her toes within her socks, and Harry almost laughed, recognizing a bit of himself in her. “At least for a bit. If it gets too dangerous, I’ll come home. But I want to go.”

“Hogwarts wasn’t safe when your Amma and I went either.” James said, petting Sarah’s head. “The war wasn’t really on until we were Hari’s age, or a little older, but it definitely wasn’t safe. But we went, because we wanted to, and it turned out alright.” Sarah frowned, a million retorts forming on her lips, but James spoke again before she could. “I’m not saying you are guaranteed a good year. All I’m saying is that, if you try to make it good for yourself, even the worst of situations will be a little easier.”

“You should really write an advice column.” Harry quipped. “If you ever get tired of teaching, that’s a good next option.”

“Amma can join you. End off every column with ‘follow your heart’.” Anne hummed.

“Well, it has worked at least once.” James said, cracking a smile. “I’m here with all of you, aren’t I?”

“It’s too early for this.” Sarah muttered, wiggling her way out of James’ grasp to stand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Noooo.” Anne whined, flopping onto the rug. “You didn’t even have a wedding.”

“That doesn’t make a difference to us.” James shrugged. “So it shouldn’t to you.”

“Where’s Amma?” Harry groaned. “We need her to stop you.”

“Amma won’t be dragged out of bed for another hour.” Anne mumbled.

“You’re all free to go back to sleep, you know. No one’s stopping you.” James said.

“Adi’s snoring is stopping me.” Anne said into the carpet. Her room was directly next to her brother’s, and the wall was just thin enough that they could hold lengthy conversations, were they so inclined.

“He gets that from your mother.” James said, shaking his head. “After a while, you learn to deal with it. Also, silencing charms help.”

“She’s ten, Appa, she can’t do magic at all yet.” Sarah pointed out.

“Right. In that case, run for it after graduation, and don’t look back.” James chuckled. “You’ll be in separate dormitories next year, so I bet you’ll miss it.”

“Are you kidding? It’ll be great to have some time with girls who I’m not related to.” Anne said. “I’m gonna ditch Adi so hard.”

“In seven years, I got so used to Sirius talking me to sleep that I couldn’t fall asleep without it for the longest time.” James said, shaking his head. “Wasn’t a problem until your mum moved in, and I had to explain the fact that calling Sirius on the mirror was a necessary thing.”

“Amma should’ve left you then, honestly.” Sarah said, pulling a face. “No offense.”

“You meant that.” Harry said.

“True.” Sarah said, after a moment’s thought. “Offense, then.”

“Appa, can we make breakfast?” Anne asked, sticking her tongue out at her older siblings.

“Of course.” James ruffled her hair. “Come on. Let’s leave them to it.” He stood up, motioning for Anne to as well. “Once they’ve fought it out, they’ll need fuel. Good thing we’re around, right?”

“What would they do without us?” Anne agreed, hopping to her feet to follow James out of the room.

Once Anne and her father were out of the room, Sarah closed her eyes, pressing her hands together as she muttered something under her breath. Harry waited until she seemed like she’d stopped speaking, before speaking up.

“What are you doing?”

“Praying for a safe school year, for once.” Sarah said, cracking a smile. “Maybe if you’d do it, we’d have no drama.”

“Maybe.” Harry shrugged. “But right now, I’m needing food more than I need prayer, and I feel like Bhagavan gets that. He’s lenient about that kind of stuff.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sarah said, sighing, as she stood up. “I don’t know how anyone deals with you.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m pretty.” Harry said, as he scrambled to his feet, the two of them making their way to the kitchen. “Lucky, lucky me.”

* * *

“Amma, Appa, hurry up!” Sarah called over her shoulder, frowning deeply. Her family, as usual, had been woefully incompetent at staying on task all morning, and she was slowly but surely becoming quite sick of it. Hogwarts, in that way, would be wonderful, she thought, because being there meant that she could do things properly and on time, with little to no sibling interference. That sounded like a dream. “We’re going to be late.”

“I’ve been going four years, and we’ve never been late.” Harry said, chuckling. “Cool off, alright? It’ll be fine. Besides, I seem to remember somebody saying I was out of line when I complained about that first year. How the tables turn.”

“Every time you say it’ll be fine, it ends up being distinctly not so.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “And I’d like to make a good first impression, considering everyone’s going to take one look at me and go ‘oh, that’s Harry Potter’s sister, I bet she’s a reckless death magnet’.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Harry said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “Write that one down. I want to remember it forever.”

“You’re downright ridiculous.” Sarah muttered, pushing her trolley a little faster as she approached the archway between Platforms Nine and Ten, disappearing through the bricks. Harry fell back a little, giving the rest of the family time to catch up with him, and sighed deeply, shaking his head.

“Girls, right?” He said to his father, who chuckled.

“She’s just a little more serious than you are.” James said, ruffling Harry’s hair, a task that was getting harder as his son grew taller. “You were just the same way, your first year, running ahead and yelling at us all. Might as well let her have her moment, now.”

Harry nodded, before rushing through the entrance to the Platform, spotting Sarah waiting nearby, impatiently tapping her foot against the stone floor. He was about to tease her, to say something funny and embarrassing that she’d groan about for days, when someone noticed him. He felt their eyes on him too, like twin holes were being burnt into his back, and that should’ve been warning about what would follow.

“It’s Potter!” He heard Seamus Finnigan yell out, and the entire atmosphere of the platform changed, people turning to stare at him like he was some kind of zoo exhibit. For a second, he wondered why anyone thought him interesting, and then the article he’d found came to mind, the words scrolling through his mind in some horrible, endless loop. No wonder people were staring-- they thought he was crazy. He looked back over his shoulder at his parents, hoping they were alright, at least, and cringed, noticing they were incredibly angry.

Lily was shooting heated looks at anyone staring in their direction. A good number of them dropped their gazes, but some met her eyes evenly. It wasn’t every day that someone challenged Lily Evans-Potter, and Harry suspected that if she didn’t have so many opponents, they would have regretted their choice.

“Amma, please.” Harry said quietly, although the sudden silence of the platform made it sound like he’d spoken a lot louder than he had. “Leave it.” He’d wanted so badly for the triplets and Sarah to not know what was going on, but he’d known Sarah would find out eventually, between her talent for digging up information and her starting at Hogwarts. He just hadn’t anticipated that the triplets would find out too.

Matt had already begun shrinking in on himself, hands fluttering near his chest. He had never done well in crowds, and the sudden combination of silence and harsh gazes seemed to have made his already dismal mood downright frantic. Drew threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders, frowning. “What’s going on?” He whispered.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, leaving his trolley unattended for a second to walk up to his youngest siblings. “I really am.” He looked back to make sure his things were still safe to see Sarah holding onto his trolley with her free hand. Harry felt like smiling, despite the heaviness in his chest. He knew he could always count on her. “I didn’t want you guys to be involved in any of this.”

“Shut up.” Anne seemed to be resisting the familiar urge to stomp her foot. “We don’t want an apology- he asked what’s going on.”

“People just don’t like the truth when it comes from me, that’s all.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Right. Come on, give your big brother some hugs, and then I’ll be off. I’m volunteering Sarah for hugs as well, because she needs them.”

Drew gave Matt a nudge, which seemed to be all the urging he needed to throw himself at Sarah. Anne and Drew crowded Harry, though Anne was still shooting irritated glances around the platform.

“I’ll see you guys in December.” Harry said, hugging them each in turn. “Write as much as possible, alright? To both of us.” He looked over at Sarah, who shrugged. “Especially to her, because she’s a dirty, rotten liar who refuses to make friends.”

“I’ve got two friends.” Sarah said, scowling.

“Friends who aren’t related to you.” Harry said, crossing his arms.

“I’ve still got one friend.” Sarah said, smirking.

“I don’t know how you wake up in the mornings.” Harry said, shaking his head. “I really don’t. Go bother her, go on.” He walked back over to the trolleys, taking Sarah’s place watching them. She let go of the handles reluctantly, before slowly making her way back over to her parents, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to navigate this situation.

Lily looked slightly less emotional than she had the first time they had seen Harry off, but her green eyes were suspiciously wet when she went to wrap Sarah in a hug. “Promise to write us as soon as you get settled tonight?”

“I will.” Sarah nodded. “I doubt I’ll have much to say.”

“It’s the Weasley twins’ final year.” James said, smiling. “You’ll probably have something to write about.”

“Tell us all about it.” Drew said to Harry. “They must have something big planned.”

“Will do.” Harry nodded. “Alright, Sarah, shall we get going?”

“One second.” Sarah said, before going up to Matt. “Behave yourself, alright? If they say anything to you, I want to know.”

Matt nodded, sniffling as he valiantly held back his tears. He reached out to hug Sarah again, mumbling a quiet, “I’ll miss you,” into her robes.

Sarah looked around, hoping that nobody was paying attention, before hugging Matt back, just as tightly. “I’m going to miss you too.” She said.

Matt pulled back after a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’ll see y-you for our birthday.” He said.

“I will do my best to find you a present.” She said, ruffling his hair. “I can’t promise Hari coming back in one piece, so I might as well bribe you with something else.”

“You gotta take care of him.” Matt said, wiping at one of his eyes.

“I’ll do my best.” Sarah said seriously. “I won’t let you down.”

“You never do.” Matt assured her softly.

“You can trust me.” She said, patting his shoulder. “We’ll be late, if I keep talking. I’ll write you tonight.”

“Good luck.” He sniffled.

“Thanks.” Sarah ruffled his hair one last time, before walking back over to Harry.  
“Let’s get going, then.” Harry said, as Sarah returned, wrenching his hand off the handle of her trolley, and they pushed them toward the train, Harry helping Sarah get her trunk into the train before pulling his own behind him. “Got somewhere to sit?”

“Ginny’s expecting me.” Sarah said, glancing down the aisle of the compartment. “Do you have somewhere to sit?”

“You bet.” Harry said, grinning. “I’ll see you at the Sorting, then. Be good, alright?” He ruffled Sarah’s hair, pinching her cheek, and she grumbled something about him being embarrassing, shoving him lightly. “Right. Go have fun. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.” Sarah said, before dragging her trunk along behind her, looking into every compartment she passed. Harry smiled, turning around, before going to search out an empty one of his own. Ron and Hermione had some sort of meeting to attend to, now that they were Prefects. Harry was awfully glad he hadn’t been selected, if only just for that.

He dragged his trunk into the first empty compartment he found, hoisting his trunk up onto the luggage rack before sitting down, looking out the window. He could see his parents and siblings bunched up together, on the platform, and he smiled just barely, feeling a little stronger for it.

Maybe he could make this a good year, if he tried hard enough.

* * *

“Hey.” Harry said, as Ron and Hermione stepped into the compartment, bickering about something they’d disagreed on at the meeting. “Long time no see.” Ron and Hermione were still much the same as he’d remembered, although Hermione looked markedly exhausted despite the long break from school, and Ron was somehow even taller and thinner than he had been before.

“Harry!” Ron exclaimed, automatically lunging forward for a hug. Harry hugged Ron tight, laughing as Ron nearly squished him. “Hey! I haven’t seen you all summer!”

“It’s nice to see you, Harry.” Hermione said, and Harry could tell from years of friendship that she was struggling not to look concerned. He couldn’t blame her-- he’d be concerned about himself too, if he were anyone else. In fact, considering he was worrying about her this very moment, he had absolutely no ground to stand on. He flopped down on the seat across from Ron and Hermione, swinging his legs up onto the seat beside him, and sighed, smiling. That was the good thing about having three friends, two of whom usually sat together-- there was always space for you to get a good nap in.

“Typical Harry.” Ron snorted, taking a seat across from him. “You’ll be falling asleep in class by tomorrow, at this rate.”

“It’s been awfully dull, without you.” Hermione said, before looking apologetically at Ron, who rolled his eyes, as though used to such an expression. “I’ve been at the Burrow, with Ron and the Weasleys, all summer, and it’s been odd, it being just the two of us.”

“You were at the Burrow?” Harry asked, surprised. He must have missed that part of her letters-- he’d read them all, but hadn’t quite had the energy to respond to some of them. Hermione, thankfully, had understood, and written to him regularly without expecting too many replies. “Your parents let you spend all summer there?”

Something unreadable flashed across Hermione’s face, for a split second, before she laughed. “They had somewhere to go, Harry, it wasn’t as if I just announced it out of the blue and got my way.”

“A dentist conference?” Harry asked, still puzzled by Hermione’s hesitation. It reminded him of when Sarah tried to hide things, but he knew Hermione, much like his sister, would not appreciate prying, especially not right now. “What even happens at those? Do they talk about brushing teeth or something? Check up on each other’s dental health? Or is it a wild, weird party or something, because even dentists have to let off steam sometimes.”

“You know”, Hermione said thoughtfully, “I’ve never asked.”

“Speaking of family members with somewhere to go,” Ron interrupted suddenly, “where’s Sarah? This is her big year.”

“With Ginny, I think.” Harry said, shrugging. “It’s going to be hell, with both of them around.”

“Why so?” Hermione asked, and Harry looked to Ron, shaking his head.

“One time when we were little, they forced me into my great-aunt’s musty old dress robes and forced me to dance around the Burrow with Percy. Said they’d let spiders loose on me if I didn’t.” Ron shuddered.

“If that wasn’t enough”, Harry added, “they’re scary good at Quidditch, too. Ginny’s an excellent Chaser, and Sarah could be as good as Oliver was, with some practice. It’s a shame she won’t be in Gryffindor.”

Harry knew his sister would be much happier somewhere else, considering she seemed to detest everything Gryffindor stood for, and he figured that, even if he that meant he’d have to play against her in Quidditch eventually, he’d at least have fun doing it. Besides, when Drew came to Hogwarts, Gryffindor, and more importantly, Harry, would get him for sure, and no one, not even one Potter, could beat two Potters on the pitch. That statement, as many of Harry’s statements did, came with a lot of fine print, but it still somehow held up under more than half of the cases it could be applied to.

“Guess we’ll be losing to Ravenclaw next year.” Ron hummed, kicking his feet up against Harry’s legs.

“Me? Lose to her?” Harry asked, affronted. “Not in a million years!”

“That’s the spirit.” Hermione said, smiling. “It’s not Sarah you’ll have to worry about, though. Ginny’s looking to make the reserves, at least, this year, and regardless of the fact you’ll be on the same team, I wouldn’t put it past her to try to ruin it for you.”

“That’s Ginny.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Always ruining my life.”

“Hey, at least you aren’t stuck with her for the rest of your life.” Ron snorted. “Anyways, anyone wanna play Exploding Snap?”

“You’re on, Weasley.” Harry said excitedly, and Hermione sighed, sitting back in her seat as she shook her head.

* * *

“I lost.” Luna said, seemingly unconcerned with this fact. Perhaps she was used to it, considering how miserable she was when it came to exploding snap.

“You’ll have another chance to win if we try again!” Neville declared, ever the hopeful one. “Right, Sarah?”

“It’s simple probability.” Sarah said, nodding.

“Alright.” She agreed easily, her oddly-shaped earrings jingling slightly as she turned to smile at Sarah. “But I very much doubt I’ll beat you.”

“I’ll do it for you!” Ginny crowed, grabbing for the deck of cards.

“That’s no fair.” Sarah said, looking to Neville for support. “Ginny beats everyone.”

“She’s got a good sense for it.” Neville nodded, grinning at Ginny. “I don’t know why we even bother playing, with her around. Might as well just hand the win to Ginny, honestly.”

“I have six brothers.” Ginny reminded them. “If I couldn’t kick their butts at cards, there’d be no point to it. And, no offense, but you guys are nothing compared to Charlie.”

“Charlie’s the best at a lot.” Sarah nodded. “Although Harry might have him beat, in terms of his record as Gryffindor Seeker.” It was still so odd, to call her brother Harry-- no one ever did, at home, and although she’d gotten used to going by Sarah at school and with her parents’ friends, it still felt a little wrong. Her father had nodded solemnly, when she’d brought this up to him, and said that she’d always be his Charu first, and everyone else’s Sarah next. That had been no small comfort, considering bringing it up to her mother would’ve probably resulted in “follow your heart, honey”.

“But I’m better.” Ginny grinned, winking at Sarah. “Hey, what house are you hoping for?”

“One of them.” Sarah said, and Neville laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his seat.

“You’re going to get one of them.” He said, once he’d regained his calm. “Which one?”

“I don’t know.” Sarah shrugged. “Not Gryffindor, so one of the others. I’d rather not get Slytherin either. I’ve only really heard about Professor Snape, but I don’t think he’s the type of person I want in charge of my life.”

“Good call.” Neville said, nodding. “Very smart choice.”

“Very.” Ginny agreed. “Though it’d be funny if you were, since then we’d have one person in every house.”

“I’d appreciate the company in Ravenclaw.” Luna hummed. “You could help me look for nargles.”

“Don’t you have glasses for finding them?” Sarah asked. “I thought you’d mentioned that.”

“We can share.” She assured Sarah. “Or we can find you a pair of your own.”

“That sounds excellent.” Sarah smiled. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Oh, lovely.” Luna smiled back, reaching out to pat Sarah’s hands.

“Nerds.” Ginny stage whispered.

“Says the Quidditch Nerd.” Sarah fired back.

“Ginny wrote me a whole essay on the history of the Harpies.” Neville spoke up. “She called it a letter.”

“Good one.” Sarah said, honestly impressed.

Ginny let out a betrayed gasp. “I knew it. Dating Harry has ruined you, Neville.”

“I rather like it.” Neville said, looking quite embarrassed.

“I trusted you to make better choices than that, Neville.” Sarah said, shaking her head. “And yet...”

“It’s a perfectly good choice.” Neville said, frowning slightly.

“Oooh, someone’s defensive about their boytoy.” Ginny teased lightly.

“Harry’s stupid, mean and reckless.” Sarah said bluntly. “If that’s your type, then go ahead.”

“Oh, no, I think Harry is quite lovely. He’s thoughtful, and very helpful if you need something.” Luna said mildly.

“Lovely? Harry?” Sarah asked, in disbelief.

“Yes. He’s just very good at hiding it, I think.” Luna tilted her head to the side.

“If that’s true, then definitely.” Sarah said, looking to Ginny for support.

“Boys are gross.” Ginny said, waving a hand through the air.

“Agreed.” Sarah nodded seriously.

“I’m a boy.” Neville said, confused.

“You’re not gross.” Sarah said.

“Thanks.” Neville said, cracking a smile.

“I find you quite lovely, as well.” Luna told him.

“You’re all nerds. I am the coolest person in this compartment.” Ginny sighed. “I shoulder this burden with dignity.”

“The only burden you’re shouldering is your ego, Ginny.” Sarah said, shaking her head.

“Potters and kettles, Sarah.” Ginny leaned back against the seat. “Potters and kettles.”

* * *

The first years filed in, heads held high and whispering quietly to each other, and Harry easily spotted Sarah among them. She was one of the taller kids in the group, which made his job a lot easier, and he waved at her as inconspicuously as possible, once he found her looking in his direction. She seemed to relax a little for it, and Harry sighed, thankful that he’d been able to help somehow. He remembered being horribly nervous, when he was in that line, and being near the end of the alphabet only really made it worse, because you had more time to think about what could go wrong than the kids at the front.

So he made sure to shoot Sarah a cheerful smile or a thumbs up, every time she looked his way while waiting through the incredibly long list of names, and he noticed his father doing the same, from the table all the teachers were seated. There were tons more kids in this batch of firsties, at least twice as many as there had been in Harry’s year and Ginny’s year as well, and Ron had jokingly said that it was because people had gotten extra busy after the war before Hermione slapped his wrist hard enough that it turned bright red.

Harry had laughed along, considering it was less a joke and more the truth-- last year’s class of first years, who’d all been born around a year after the war had ended, had been humongous, and this one was even bigger. But, among all those names, there was really only one he cared about. Sarah, to her credit, was trying hard to put on a brave face, and Harry knew he should talk to her about that, but that would be much easier of a conversation to have when she wasn’t incredibly stressed out. Perhaps next week, Harry thought, and penciled it into his mental schedule.

“Sarah Potter.” Professor McGonagall called out, and the whispering first years went silent. Some of them looked at Sarah oddly, obviously having read the paper over the summer, but Sarah didn’t seem to care, striding up to the stool with her head held high. She sat down, hand folded neatly in her lap, and looked up at Professor McGonagall expectantly. In that moment, more so than ever before, Harry didn’t think he’d ever been this proud of his little sister.

The Sorting Hat hardly even touched her head before it roared “Ravenclaw!” to the waiting hall, and Harry stood up, a bright smile on his face, clapping as loudly as he could. His sister, a Ravenclaw. He was never going to live this down, having an official bird nerd for a sister, but he found himself not minding-- even if she wasn’t in Gryffindor with him, she’d be safe with Luna and Padma, and all those other people in Ravenclaw Tower who enjoyed having weirdly intense discussions about things too early in the morning.

Hermione joined in the clapping, looking just as excited, just as Neville practically jumped up from his seat at the Hufflepuff table, cheering loudly. Ginny, not one to be outdone, stood up on the bench in order to clap more visibly. Ron’s cheers were mixed with laughter at his own sister’s antics.

“There are other children yet to be sorted.” Professor McGonagall said sternly, looking right at Harry, who grinned sheepishly. “We would all appreciate it if the commotion were to cease.”

Harry rolled his eyes, sitting back down along with his friends, and laughed. “A Ravenclaw. I can’t believe it.”

“It’s Sarah-- did you really put money on any other house?” Ginny snorted.

The feast was just like every other-- far too much food and drink for even the hungriest of teenagers-- and Harry found himself glancing over at the Ravenclaw table every few minutes, just to make sure Sarah was settling in alright. He spotted her talking to a few of the other first years, and a wave of warmth spread through him like wildfire, setting every bit of him alight with pride. His little sister, a Ravenclaw. He couldn’t believe it.

He jogged up to her, after the feast had ended, just before the first years were to leave with their prefects, and she raised an eyebrow, looking rather annoyed.

“Good job, Charu.” Harry said, pulling her into a tight hug. Sarah sighed, then wrapped her arms around him as well, squeezing tight. “I’m real proud of you.”

“Go away.” She muttered, upon letting go, before running after the rest of the Ravenclaw first years, who had begun to file out of the hall.

“I’ll see you at breakfast!” Harry called, and Sarah cast a baleful glance over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner. Harry broke into laughter as Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking his head. Even if everything else was going wrong, he could always count on Sarah to hold him steady.

“Sisters, right?” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” Harry said fondly, shaking his head.


	3. Don't Piss Off The PTA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When Draco Malfoy pisses off a Hippogriff, there is a court case. The entire Wizarding World goes ballistic, because someone’s little boy’s gotten hurt.” James said, each word carefully enunciated, as if he’d rehearsed each one in his mind beforehand. “When my son is tortured by a madman”, he said, voice breaking slightly, “the entire world turns against him. How fair does that look?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit of a dark one, and it's only going downhill from here, so I suggest you get your seatbelts on! We were excited to write the first home scene with just Lily and the triplets, this week, and hopefully all the new information you're getting about them is worth the wait! 
> 
> We'll see you back next week with a new chapter. Take care of yourselves, and leave a comment at the bottom if you've got the time!
> 
> -S&L

“What is this supposed to be?” Lily slammed a crumpled copy of the newspaper onto the table, the force of it causing the old wood to creak. “Harry was tortured by Voldemort, and now he’s being publicly mocked and accused of lying? What the hell!”

“Our son has been through enough.” James agreed vehemently. The hard look in his hazel eyes promised retribution, even more sincerely than his words did. “He doesn’t need this too.”

“What sort of a circus is being run, here?” Sirius demanded, turning on the headmaster. Albus Dumbledore seemed to be doing his best to take advantage of his advanced age, playing the part of the wizened old man as effectively as possible. Everyone in the room knew much better, though-- Albus Dumbledore’s mind was far too sharp, even at this age, to be that fragile. “Harry is a kid. Practically a baby.”

“That’s something I’d like to preserve for as long as possible.” Dumbledore said, nodding.

“Well, you certainly have a fantastic track record, on that point.” James fired back, crossing his arms. Tension emanated from his stiffly held frame, like he was a tightly coiled spring, and were he not in present company, he would have snapped long ago. “I want some real answers, please.”

“I’m afraid I have none to give, James.” He sighed, accompanying his words with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “I have no control over what the newspapers print. I wish more than anyone that I could prevent this.”

“Well, you could actually support him, for one.” James said, frowning. Those words meant nothing, and Dumbledore knew it-- everyone was well aware the man held more sway in the Wizarding World than he admitted. The proof was in all of those strange titles he made sure to put behind his name every time he signed it, almost as if he wanted them to remember that he was above them. “You know he’s back just as well as we do. Right now, it’s Harry’s word against anyone else’s, and everybody knows what his word’s worth, here. Actually doing your job and, I don’t know, looking out for one of the kids under your care might be a good place to start.”

“We are all aware that I agree with Harry. I have no problem acknowledging this publicly, but I think you know that it won’t do much good.” Dumbledore said.

“And it’s not just one kid, anymore.” Remus, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. There was an unfamiliar aggression in his green eyes, one often quieted by the presence of his friends. But those friends seemed glad to let Remus run free, at the moment, incredibly angry themselves. “Sarah’s just as much at risk as Harry is.”

“I have half a mind to pull them both out of school.” Lily snapped. “I probably would have, if James weren’t there.”

“We’ve learned already that me being there makes no difference.” James said, the anger that had been present in his voice up until now fading. “And, judging by the fact that you’re allowing the Ministry to interfere this year, I see no point in keeping them there either. All that’s going to happen is that they’re going to be walking around with even bigger targets on their backs, now.”

“Hogwarts has always been and will continue to be the safest place in the Wizarding World.” Dumbledore insisted calmly. “Your children will not be harmed within our halls.”

“When Draco Malfoy pisses off a Hippogriff, there is a court case. The entire Wizarding World goes ballistic, because someone’s little boy’s gotten hurt.” James said, each word carefully enunciated, as if he’d rehearsed each one in his mind beforehand. “When my son is tortured by a madman”, he said, voice breaking slightly, “the entire world turns against him. How fair does that look?”

“Life is never as fair as we would hope. That’s why you all joined the Order, James.” Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers together.

“By the end of the week, you’re supporting him, and as publicly as you can manage.” James said, having pulled himself together in the few seconds Dumbledore had been speaking. “I don’t care if it doesn’t help. I do not want him handling it himself again.”

“It won’t be a pretty picture for you if you let him.” Lily told Dumbledore, her voice going cold. “I am many things, but above all I am a mother.”

“A mother I’m not, but I figure it’s just as much my job as his godfather.” Sirius crossed his arms, glaring at the headmaster.

“Make that four people who you’ll have to deal with.” Remus added, gritting his teeth. “I am not letting these kids down.”

Dumbledore watched them all with an infuriatingly calm expression, before finally nodding.

“Good.” James said, nodding decisively. “We’ll be waiting.” He turned his back on the old man, striding out of the room with Lily at his side and Sirius and Remus right behind him.

There was no reason to trust Dumbledore at all, but he supposed they would have to, just this once.

* * *

 

“This year”, James Potter said, as the fifth years filed into his class the next afternoon, “is going to be a little different.”

The look on his father’s face, Harry thought, was one he was used to seeing when he’d done something particularly ridiculous at school, or when he and his siblings were fighting needlessly. It wasn’t a look that anyone could call confrontational or combative, but it was definitely identifiable as a reaction to needless annoyance. And considering Harry hadn’t done anything detention worthy yet, and the fact that he’d been nothing but kind to Sarah since school had started, it had to be someone else.

Once all the students had settled into their desks, he continued speaking, having schooled his expression into something more cheerful during the wait.

“The Ministry has made the syllabus for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, in a new effort to standardize education across Europe. Comparison of our OWL and NEWT results to those of students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang has shown that Hogwarts students are lagging behind slightly, in some subjects, and as such, there has been a new curriculum implemented, with Ministry support available for teachers, should they request it.” James said, as he looked around the class, scribbling check marks by the names on the roll of parchment he kept for attendance. By the fifth year of seeing them at least twice a week, Harry reasoned, it would be quite easy to pick out which students were there or not-- if his father hadn’t known all of their names first year, he certainly knew them now. “You all deserve to know what it is you’ll be learning, so you can be prepared.”

He picked up a thick pile of papers, and placed half on the first desk of Slytherins in the front row, the other half on the first Gryffindor desk. “Take enough for your desk, and then pass it back. Keep going until everyone’s got one.”

Hermione, Harry and Ron shared confused looks, each taking their own copies of the syllabus before Hermione passed it back to Parvati and Lavender, who were sitting behind them, whispering excitedly. Harry stuck his tongue out at Parvati, and she looked genuinely surprised for a moment before rolling her eyes. Harry turned back around, sinking a little lower in his seat, before picking up the syllabus. Had he been so different that even a normal game was surprising?

The classroom fell into silence as people began to read through the syllabus, silence that was suddenly interrupted when Hermione’s hand shot up.

“Professor?” She asked, catching the attention of much of the class. “There isn’t anything about practical offensive or defensive magic on here. Are we only studying theory this year?”

“Yes we are.” James said, nodding as he tried to keep a straight face. Harry knew from personal experience that this particular expression only came up when his father was feeling the need to pick a fight, and thanked his lucky stars that there wasn’t a Ministry representative nearby. From what he’d heard from his uncles, it was very hard to come out on top during a fight with James Potter if your name wasn’t Lily. “There’s no need for you kids to practice anything-- it’s all theory for you, at this point in your lives.” He cracked a smile, though it was easily discernable as only half-sincere, if even that. “You only need the practice if you’re in danger, and you’ve all got nothing to worry about. No threats on the horizon, so why put these things into practice and scare you further, huh? Book stuff should be enough.”

Harry bit his lip, feeling slightly nauseous, and hung his head. He felt as if all the class was staring directly at him, and wondered if they were as sure as he was in the knowledge that the Ministry scripted drivel coming out of his father’s mouth was specifically meant for him. He looked up a few seconds later, hopeful that, maybe, he’d been let off the hook, and saw his father shoot a concerned look his way.

He shook his head, trying to be as subtle about it as possible, and tuned out the rest of the lecture, scribbling absently in the margins of his syllabus when the class was instructed to take notes on the first chapter of the book. The only thing grounding him was the familiar press of Ron’s shoulder against his own, and the knowledge that Hermione was just centimeters away on his other side. His friends were here, and this was real, undeniably real, and he should get to work on his notes. It felt as if he were running on autopilot, some strange, fuzzy barrier separating him from his actions, and if he was starting the year like this, he could only imagine what a disaster the end would be.

“Only theory? This is rubbish.” Ron said as they exited the classroom. “The practical part of the class was the only good part!”

“There’s no danger, Ron.” Harry said, and perhaps he’d sounded more tired than he intended, because Ron’s annoyance suddenly turned to concern. Hermione looked Harry over, a frown on her face, and he shrugged, sighing. “Why should we be afraid if there’s nothing to fear?”

He struck off ahead of his friends, just as Ron was about to speak, head down and school bag clutched close to his side. Why should he be this afraid if there was nothing to fear?

* * *

 

The Great Hall, more so than the rest of the school, was a minefield.

Mealtimes were infinitely more dangerous than the rest of the day, Harry had realized, because people who were eating were often people with time on their hands for intense judgment. Of course, this could partially be explained by the fact that he was at a boarding school primarily populated by teenagers, but, as those same teenagers had been quite kind to him last year, he was inclined it had something to do with the fact that the name Harry Potter was now lower than mud.

And, on Friday morning, as he shuffled into the hall, friends at his side, he found the environment significantly more charged with tension, the number of eyes that were all usually trained on him split neatly in half. He hardly spared a thought to who the second target could be, instead wolfing down his breakfast in hopes to get out of the hall as quickly as possible.

“Blimey.” Ron’s voice was colored with surprise, and the newspaper in his hands crinkled slightly. “Harry, look at this. Dumbledore says he believes you and that the Wizarding World needs to be prepared for Voldemort coming back.”

“What?” Harry said, half disbelieving, before looking over Ron’s shoulder to get proof for himself. It was printed right there in the headline, and Harry blinked in surprise, reading it over twice, then another time, just to make sure it was, in fact, saying what he thought it did. Dumbledore had supported him. At any other time, the news would’ve lifted his mood, but now he just felt confused. What purpose would this serve? Wasn’t this just dragging someone else through the mud with him?

Well, he thought, glancing over at the Ravenclaw table to see his sister sitting alone at the end, hiding behind one of his old school books, he didn’t seem to have many qualms about that to begin with.

“Hopefully this will change things.” Hermione said, trying to keep the quickly sinking morale up. Harry had never known her to lie too seriously, and here she was, throwing that solid assumption straight down the drain. “They trust Dumbledore, here.”

“Considering the things he’s being called in this article? I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” Ron frowned, shaking his head. Harry, who hadn’t even seen the entirety of the article, grimaced. If Ron lacked hope, then it was definitely a lost cause. “Skeeter is calling for him to step down as headmaster.”

“They’re not going to believe me until something happens, Hermione.” Harry said, heaving a tired sigh. Hermione looked concerned, again, when he dared look up at her, and he shook his head. “All I can do is keep telling the truth until someone shuts me up, or something happens to convince them. And, for their sakes, I hope it isn’t big when it does.”

“You’re too good to them.” Ron sighed. “They’re all gits, treating you like this.”

Harry cracked a mirthless smile. “I’m used to being the bigger person.”

* * *

 

“Puriyave maatengarudhu, Appa.” Harry whined, throwing his head back. Sarah rolled her eyes. He brother was an idiot, and somehow, he’d managed to be an idiot bilingually. (I don’t get it, Dad.)

“Edhaanu ezhudhiniyaa?” James asked, without even looking up from the grading he was doing, and Sarah stifled a laugh as Harry sank lower into his seat, muttering something about unfair questions. He likely hadn’t written a word at all, so her father’s question had been extremely well placed. (Did you write anything?)

“Pongo, Appa.” Harry muttered, just loud enough for James to hear, and Sarah exchanged an incredulous look with her father, before kicking Harry in the side of the leg. (Screw off, Dad.)

“Velaiya aarambichaa mudiyum.” Sarah said, raising an eyebrow, and Harry groaned before setting to work on his essay. Good thing he did, too, because she had a letter to write. The first week of her first year had resulted in awfully little work, and she wondered why Harry had complained so much if he’d hardly had anything to do. Of course, he’d joined the Quidditch team right off the bat, and Sarah, like any responsible person, would be waiting until next year to try out. That might have been a factor, but Sarah knew better than most that her brother just plain didn’t like school. (The job will only finish if you start it.)

“Shut up, will you?” Harry muttered, kicking her right back, once their father’s attention was focused back on his grading, and Sarah sighed, shaking her head as she cracked a smile. Some things never changed.

She dipped her quill in the inkwell she’d set at the top right corner of the desk, and began to write the letter she’d promised her mother. There was plenty to talk about.

* * *

 

Lily Evans Potter had come to several conclusions over the last week.

The house was much quieter without Sarah-- mostly due to the lack of arguing. It was odd, not having to break her two girls apart at all times of the day and night. It almost seemed, in retrospect, as if they had been fighting each other since the moment they could both talk, only forming small truces at an opportunity to terrorize others. It was both worrying and familiar, but everyone had simply hoped they would calm down as they got older, a hope that was quickly withering and dying, as the fights seemed to only be getting worse as time went on. Now, thankfully, there would be a year’s break, but that also came with an unfortunate consequence.

Without Sarah present to oppose her little sister, Anne had the run of the house.

Drew certainly wasn’t a contender for the title-- he had always been content to let Anne boss him around. He was a very cheerful, laid back child, his easy going nature a happy medium between Anne’s special brand of enthusiastic aggression, and Matt’s constant air of quiet anxiety.

Matt, to no one’s surprise, had even less interest in claiming the top spot than his older brother. He had always tried to avoid the fuss that was Anne and Sarah’s fights, hiding himself away in corners, or tucking himself into closets or cupboards. He would emerge when the argument had died down, carefully approaching Sarah while holding out whatever book he’d found on his journeys like a peace offering.

Sarah would always drop whatever argument was at hand, in the face of new reading material, and the two of them would spend hours deep in conversation, heads pressed together as they read every page thoroughly, until none were left, before, often, starting all over again. Lily had always thought both Sarah and Matt had looked their happiest after those quiet hours with each other, but now, without the easy promise of that company, Matt tended to spend the majority of his time hiding from the rest of the family.

He had always been better at entertaining himself than any of his other siblings. He would spend meals with the family, and occasionally, he would join in with his siblings’ antics, but, for the most part, however, he had always preferred both being and playing on his own. An unfortunate tendency, for a child with so many siblings, but you could always count on Matt for one thing-- no matter how high the odds were stacked against him, he would always find a way to make it work. That, like the rest of Matt’s personality, had been a constant for as long as Lily could remember.

When the triplets were younger, Harry and Sarah already in school, she would take them to the local park to play, just as she fondly remembered doing as a child.

Anne and Drew would make full use of their time outside, sprinting around the playground with the other children while screaming at the top of their lungs. Matt, who had never been too fond of running or screaming, would gravitate towards the sandbox. Lily would find him later, sitting there quietly with one or two other toddlers and occasionally a stick, which he’d use to draw pictures in the sand. He had never been one for their loud and angry games, always preferring Sarah’s more quiet activities to the screaming and running about that his other three siblings, especially Anne, seemed to live for.

Anne, now that her already small pool of willing playmates had shrunk even further, would often employ Drew in tracking down Matt, dragging him out from his hiding spaces and making play whatever strange, wild games she had thought up. Matt, to his credit, would play along for a time, and even enjoy himself, but eventually, would grow overstimulated and upset. Drew always tried his best to mediate, but Anne had always been a force of nature.

That was how Lily, as she often had, in the past week, had ended up with a lap full of her youngest son yet again. She smoothed a hand through his black hair, quietly reading the book held in her other hand out loud. The Lord of the Rings had always been a family favorite, though, more often than not, James was directing the children as they acted out the scenes.

They were just getting to the Council of Elrond when she heard a tapping noise at the window. She glanced up, noticing Hedwig perched on the windowsill. “Madhav, baby, do you want to let her in?”

Matt crawled out of her lap silently, padding across the room and letting the window swing open. Hedwig hopped in and allowed the youngest Potter to gently pet her head before untying the piece of parchment tied to her leg.

“It’s from Charu.” He announced, moving back to his mother’s side.

“Well, let’s see what she has to say.”

> _Dear Amma, Anju, Adi and Madhav,_
> 
> _Don’t worry, I’m settling in just fine at school. I’m finding myself better suited to Ravenclaw as time passes, and Luna and Padma Akka are helping with any trouble I have. I am trying my best to make new friends, Amma, before you ask, and it’ll happen with time. The other first years are dull and uninteresting, and most are wary of me because of the events of the last few weeks, as it is. I’m not lacking for entertainment, though-- Appa is busy embarrassing himself in public, as always, and I’m surprised that Hari hasn’t complained about him more. On the note of complaining, it’s odd to call each other Harry and Sarah in public, but we are both managing, somehow._
> 
> _I hope all is well at home, and I miss all of you very much, Madhav especially. Hari, who is badly pretending to do homework next to me, sends his regards as well, and would like to know if he can just sign his name on my letter and call it a day from now on. I suggest a Howler, to put his head back in the right place. He’s scowling right now. I have reminded him that his face will get stuck that way, if he continues, and the warning, along with Appa’s badly hidden laughter, does not seem to be helping._
> 
> _It is getting hard to argue with him while writing, so I’ve decided to devote my energy entirely to that. Trying as it is, it both deserves and requires my full attention. I hope you understand._
> 
> _Yours,_   
>  _Charu_

Matt sniffled, wiping at his suspiciously shiny eyes. Lily pretended not to notice as she passed him the letter. “Do you want to go show Anju and Adi?” She asked.

“Sure.” He accepted the parchment, wandering out of the room with the letter tightly clutched in his hand.

“Well,” Lily sighed, “that’s one child who’ll actually write me regularly.”


	4. Toad in the Dungeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, plump woman, dressed in a fluffy pink cardigan, strode up to his side, a simpering smile on her face. Harry was struck by the notion that she looked rather like a toad. He briefly thought about calling her Trevor, then realized that it would likely be rude to Trevor.
> 
> “Thank you for those kind words, Dumbledore.” She said, smiling down at the students. “It’s lovely to be back at Hogwarts, and to see so many happy little faces looking at me!”
> 
> Harry scowled, and looked over to Ron and Hermione to see they were doing the same. Not happy faces by any measure. That was at least three, although that wasn’t many, among the hundreds of kids at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Troy and Gabriella, "It's the start of something new. It feels so right to be here with you... oh. And now, lookin' in your eyes, I feel in my heart, that it's the start of somethin' new". We are officially nearing the top of the roller coaster, folks. Let's have a good time on the way down.
> 
> -S&L

The atmosphere of the Great Hall hadn’t changed. The other students chattered easily over their breakfasts, and the teachers spoke in hushed tones at their table. Perhaps there was a sense of unease, with the way Professors Potter and McGonagall were whispering to each other, but overall it had been a perfectly normal day.

Except that Ron seemed to be entirely lacking in appetite. He shoved some food around his plate, head braced on an open palm. “I know I should have expected this, but it still sucks.” He mumbled to Harry and Hermione, sighing deeply.

Harry nodded, pushing his own food around his plate as well. The school year only seemed to be getting worse and worse, and they hadn’t yet made it past the second week of September. If things could fall so far within the space of half a month, Voldemort would likely be able to waltz right into Hogwarts, commit mass murder, and get back to wherever he called home in five minutes by winter break. And it was all Harry’s fault-- he’d brought him back, and now his ineffective warnings were bound to hurt even more people.

“You didn’t do shit.” Ron continued, as if he’d read Harry’s thoughts, scowling over Harry’s shoulder at a nosy second-year. “They should be thanking you for the warning.”

“Yeah, well.” Harry shrugged, glancing around the hall. The few other students who met his gaze, mostly by accident, hurriedly looked away. “Hard to get a thank you out of this lot.”

“I have half a mind to beat one out of them.” Ron dropped his voice lower, not wanting to be overheard. Causing more trouble wouldn’t end well.

“We have enough to deal with.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Anything you do will get pinned on Harry.”

“Evil Overlord Harry Potter.” Harry said with a snort. “That’s me. I’m getting all my evil intentions in order, so I can finally reveal the fact that I’ve been Voldemort the whole time. Surprise!”

“If you’re Voldemort, I’m Lucius Malfoy.” Ron groaned. “Sign me up for head death eater. Hermione, who do you wanna be?”

“I’d rather not be anyone at all, if that’s alright.” Hermione said, frowning.

“Me either, to be honest.” Harry nodded. “If he gains any power at all…” He trailed off, feeling even more unsettled than before. From what he knew about the last war, it started with muggleborns and their sympathizers disappearing under strange conditions, never to return. And, with Harry being an obvious target, the two Muggleborns closest to him were his mother and Hermione. No matter what, he seemed to always be putting someone he cared for at risk.

Ron shoved his plate away, finally. “Can we talk about something else? We can’t do anything to change it right now, and we’re just making ourselves miserable.”

“We’ve got a Quidditch cup ready team, save for the fact that we haven’t got a Keeper.” Harry said, looking to Ron. “Would you be okay with trying out?”

“It would be hard, making the Cup without a Keeper.” Hermione mused.

“Considering we wouldn’t be able to play?” Harry asked, cracking a weak smile. “Pretty hard.”

Ron shrugged. “I’ve only ever played with my siblings before. Can’t guarantee I’ll be any good-- Ginny and Charlie have always been loads better.” He said. “Actually, Charlie was quidditch captain, did I ever tell you that, Hermione?”

“You’ve mentioned it, once or twice.” Hermione said, nodding.

“Shut up, Ron, you’re plenty good. And we don’t need a Chaser or a Seeker, at the moment, so it doesn’t matter what Ginny and Charlie do.” Harry said. “You’re the only Gryffindor I know who plays Keeper well, and we need one, so here you are, saving the day. Please?”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, the tips of his ears going pink. “Yeah… sure, I guess I could give it a shot.”

“You’ll do great, I bet.” Harry said, reaching over to ruffle Ron’s red hair. “Tryouts are in two weeks, I think. I’ll have to ask Angelina.”

“I’ll have to use a school broom.” Ron said thoughtfully. “Or maybe Charlie’s old one. Mum can send it for me, if the twins don’t have it.”

“The school brooms aren’t all that bad.” Hermione said. “We all had to use them during the flying lessons.”

“Yeah, and three people went to the Hospital Wing.” Ron snorted.

“They’re not fit for competition. That needs different kinds of brooms.” Harry said, thinking that Hermione might not have looked too far into that aspect of the Wizarding World. Judging by the thoughtful look on her face, he was right. “Ones specifically for sports. Faster, more streamlined, kind of less safe?”

“That makes sense.” Hermione nodded. “So brooms are more like cars, then? In terms of different types of cars being for different purposes?”

“More like bicycles, if you think about it.” Harry said thoughtfully. “Yeah. Like bicycles.”

“Really fancy bicycles.” Ron agreed. “Harry’s got a really great broom-- I can’t wait to see which kind Drew gets for his birthday, next year.”

“Mine’s great.” Harry nodded. “Sarah’s not getting one until next year, and the triplets the year after, to make sure none of them go and accidentally make the team like I did.”

“Guess we can’t have any more prodigies.” Ron agreed with a laugh. “Isn’t Matt scared of heights, anyways?”

“Matt’s scared of just about anything.” Harry said, shaking his head. His little brother hadn’t wanted anything to do with brooms, even as a child, and he doubted Matt would go any closer to the Quidditch Pitch than the stands, at Hogwarts. Maybe that was for the best-- Matt lacked the competitive nature necessary to win, and if he didn’t, Anne would tease him endlessly.

“But Sarah will play, right?” Ron asked.

“Oh, definitely.” Harry nodded. “She’ll be tough to beat, next year. It’s why we need you on the team.”

Ron let out a funny noise, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide it. “How’s she doing, anyways? In Ravenclaw, and all.”

“I don’t know.” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “She hasn’t exactly been upfront about it. It’s Sarah. What were we expecting?”

Ron glanced over Harry’s shoulder, frowning at the Ravenclaw table. “Dunno. I haven’t really seen her talking to anyone- and Ginny says she hasn’t had much time to track her down, y’know?”

“Parvati says Padma’s had a few chats with her here and there, but I mean, we all know how little time we’ve got, so she’s likely got even less.” Harry said, sighing. Even though OWLs weren’t until March, the teachers had started piling on homework like his year testing tomorrow. “I’ll try and talk to her. I don’t think I have, today.” He glanced over to the Ravenclaw table, unsurprised by the sight of Sarah alone at the end with a book. He’d really have to talk to her about making at least one new friend, especially one her age. If she just stuck with his group, what would she do when they graduated in three years?

Before Harry could get up and head over to the Ravenclaw table, Dumbledore stood. He stepped forward, causing the hall to fall silent. “Good morning-- I trust you’ve all made the most of our first two weeks back at Hogwarts.” He smiled over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, blue eyes twinkling cheerfully.

“I, for one, have had an excellent two weeks.” Harry said under his breath, rolling his eyes. “Only just barely edged out by the great big party that second year was, honestly.”

“I’m just trying to get used to being a prefect.” Ron mumbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mum so proud.”

“I can’t believe it either.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Our little Ronald, Hermione. He’s all grown up and responsible.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Hermione joked. “He can’t even keep the schedule of our rounds straight.”

“That’s what I’ve got you for.” He grinned cheekily.

“As many of you have noticed, several of our class syllabuses have been replaced with a new, Ministry-approved curriculum. As part of the implementation of this new system, we are hosting a representative from the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge.”

A short, plump woman, dressed in a fluffy pink cardigan, strode up to his side, a simpering smile on her face. Harry was struck by the notion that she looked rather like a toad. He briefly thought about calling her Trevor, then realized that it would likely be rude to Trevor.

“Thank you for those kind words, Dumbledore.” She said, smiling down at the students. “It’s lovely to be back at Hogwarts, and to see so many happy little faces looking at me!”

Harry scowled, and looked over to Ron and Hermione to see they were doing the same. Not happy faces by any measure. That was at least three, although that wasn’t many, among the hundreds of kids at Hogwarts.

“The goal of the Ministry is to make sure you all get the wonderful education you deserve, and to prepare you all to be the best witches and wizards you can be!” She declared, smiling brightly at the hall full of children before her. “As such, I’ll be inspecting all the classes, just to make sure that your teachers are teaching you as well as they should, to help your little minds grow!”

“Does she think this is a preschool?” Ron whispered incredulously.

“Probably.” Harry whispered back, eyes still on Umbridge. She seemed to have zeroed in on him, despite his efforts to stay unnoticed. Darn.

“You can expect me in your classes over the next few weeks, and don’t worry teachers, I won’t be too harsh unless you deserve it!” She said cheerfully, eyes on James Potter, who looked to be contemplating the pros and cons of drowning himself in the half full bowl of soup before him. Snape, seated a few people down at the head table, seemed far too amused for the situation. “And, as High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, a title bestowed upon me by the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, I can assign detentions to students who disrupt the lovely atmosphere these teachers are working so hard to create here. Of course, I hope I don’t have to do that, but I won’t hesitate to if necessary!”

“I’m doomed.” Harry muttered. “It’s over. This is how I die.”

“I say we quit school and live in the woods for a year. All in favor, say aye.” Ron mumbled.

“Aye.” said the twins, from a few feet down the bench.

“Hermione, you in?” Harry asked, and Hermione sighed.

“Why not?” She said, trying to sound exasperated, though her facial expression betrayed her support of the plan.

“Great, we’re all in agreement.” Ron nodded. “I’ll be packed and ready by tonight.”

“We should wait until morning.” Hermione reasoned. “Who knows what’s in the Forbidden Forest at night?”

“Somehow, I think this is going to make Quirrell drinking unicorn blood look tame.” Harry muttered, chancing a look over at Umbridge, who seemed to be watching him intently. He went back to pushing at the food on his plate, trying ease his nerves with conversation. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he was thinking, but things were often much worse than he thought they’d be.

* * *

Sarah set her bag down at the end of the last bench, arranging her supplies just how she liked them on the table. The Hufflepuff who had partnered with her last week likely wouldn’t be up for repeating the experience, as Sarah had nearly melted the poor girl’s hand by adding an ingredient while she was stirring because the time of addition wouldn’t have been exact if she’d waited. The girl had already been nervous to work with her, what with the reputation Sarah’s older brother had earned himself around the school, and so were many of Sarah’s other classmates. She’d just have to wait and see which one of them drew the short straw, this class.

She didn’t have to wait long, as a moment later, a lanky eleven year-old approached her bench. She recognized him from the Ravenclaw common room, with his black hair and dark eyes. He was calm as he extended his hand to her, bag still slung over his shoulder. “I’m Kyung Nang.” He introduced himself, his words colored by an accent. “My partner and I did not work well together last week. Are you in need of one?”

“That makes two of us.” Sarah said, trying to sound as personable as possible. Her mother had mentioned that was important, with regard to making friends. “I’d like a new partner, yes. The teacher doesn’t like me very much, though. Be warned.” She cast a wary glance up at Snape’s desk, where he was pretending not to watch the two of them with sharp eyes.

“He does not seem like he likes much of anything.” Kyung murmured, setting his bag down on the table. “I do not see how you could have earned that harsh of an opinion from him, considering classes only began last week.”

“He hates my dad.” Sarah said, shrugging. Whatever had gone on between Snape and her father was more than twenty years old, and Sarah was very much of the opinion that Snape should be long over it by now. Or, at the bare minimum, he should not be taking it out on herself and Harry, just because they happened to be their father’s children. That was just blatant immaturity, and, being eleven, she knew a lot about blatant immaturity. “Old politics, from their school days.”

“He seems a bit old for schoolyard grudges.” Kyung said. His expression was carefully composed, which might have been for the best, as Snape’s irritated gaze was still lingering on the pair. After a slight pause, the boy raised one of his eyebrows. “But if he insists on being a child, my advice would be that the best revenge is to pass his class with flying colors.”

“I agree.” Sarah nodded. Kyung would certainly make a useful friend, especially if they were both of a similar mind about this class. “I understand the theory well. It’s the practical aspect that I struggle with.”

Kyung offered a tiny smile, something like amusement sparking in his eyes. “My mother has been having me help her with potions for years. If you read the directions, I will do the practical work?”

“My mother’s been doing the same, and it hasn’t helped me one bit.” Sarah smiled back, just barely. “That sounds like a good deal.”

He held out his hand for her to shake, tilting his head slightly. “You have not told me your name yet.”

She held out her hand as well. How should she introduce herself? It still didn’t come to her naturally, but she tried her best. Sarah Potter. That was who she was, here. “Sarah Potter. Nice to meet you, Kyung.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He said.

“That makes two of us.” Sarah said, before opening her book to the page marked out on the board. “In advance, I’m sorry if there’s anything inappropriate drawn in my book-- I have my older brother’s old book, for Potions, and he wasn’t the most… dedicated of students.” She sighed in relief when the page in question didn’t have something drawn on it. Harry was a horrible artist, no matter what he was trying to draw.

Kyung chuckled, pulling his own textbook from his bag. It was brand-new, as though he hadn’t even flipped through it before. “My only sister is younger than I am. She threatened me with bodily harm, should I feel the need to do anything like that.”

“My younger sister is the same.” Sarah chuckled. “She threatens bodily harm often enough that it doesn’t really matter anymore, though.”

He let out a laugh, covering his mouth with one hand. “Maybe they’ll be friends, once they’re both attending.” He suggested. “Or they might just fight each other, instead of us.”

“The boys will stop that.” Sarah said, a note of fondness creeping into her voice. “She’s one of three, my little sister, and thankfully, the other two tend to balance her out.”

“Three?” He looked surprised. “That sounds… Hectic.”

“It is.” Sarah nodded seriously. Growing up alongside the triplets, while fun, had been quite a challenge. She liked to think it would prepare her well for life, and the struggles that lay ahead. “I wonder how my parents manage it, sometimes. Especially considering both my older brother and younger sister are the type that require all of your attention.”

“They must have had an incredible strength of will, to raise so many of you.” Kyung told her, not unkindly.

“My mother does.” Sarah said. “I’m not quite sure what my father’s doing, but she says we’re supposed to be proud of him anyway.”

“My father often tells me something similar about Shin-ji.” Kyung admitted, seeming more amused than anything. “I cannot tell if she is ignoring him, or honestly doing her best.”

“I don’t know how similar she is to my sister, but from years of watching Anne, I’ve ascertained that she is, actually, just trying.” Sarah said. “It’s just that her trying takes the form of… large scale property damage.”

“That sounds like Shin-ji.” He agreed easily. “When she began showing magical ability, she set my hair on fire and destroyed my mother’s bookshelves. All three of them. In different parts of the house.”

“That sounds terrifying.” Sarah said, visibly shocked. “The books weren’t damaged, were they?”

Kyung let out a heavy sigh, as though he were about to inform Sarah that someone close to her had passed. “Most of them were.” He said. “Mother had to buy new editions-- some had been passed down from her parents, though, and were rather… rare. Irreplaceable.”

“Anne broke the pressure cooker once, because she didn’t want what was for dinner.” Sarah said, frowning. That had been a horrible evening. Her father had been quite upset, and Harry had cried, despite the matter having had absolutely nothing to do with him. Or maybe that was why he’d been crying. “Nothing on the order of inherited books, of course, but my father did take it quite hard. She nearly ruined his mother’s old recipe book, in the resulting explosion. Ironically enough, her favorite thing to do now is cook.”

“Perhaps she’s making up for lost time.” Kyung suggested with a smile. “Shin-ji is still not as invested in reading as I am, though that might be due to my mother keeping her far away from any important books until she had a better handle on magic.”

“A wise decision.” Sarah said, smiling as well. “It probably is her attempt at redeeming herself.”

Snape stood, his voice sharp as he began class. Kyung turned to pay attention, but not before offering Sarah another conspiratorial smile. Sarah smiled back, feeling a little more confident about the class now that she had a partner, and perhaps a friend, by her side.

* * *

“Hey, Cha-- err, Sarah, hey.” Harry sat down next to Sarah, who was enjoying the decent weather out in the courtyard. “I’ve got something to ask you, actually.”

“I’m sleeping on time, I’m eating three meals a day, and all my homework is turned in.” Sarah said, without lifting her gaze from the essay she was writing. “Go away.”

“Actually, I wasn’t going to ask you any of those questions, but thanks for the information. I’ll let Amma know.” Harry said, scratching the back of his head. “Okay, listen, we’ve all been worried about you, ‘cause you’re always sitting alone when we see you. Ginny too.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I like being alone?” Sarah asked, frowning slightly. She continued writing her essay as if her brother wasn’t present at all. “I didn’t come to Hogwarts to talk to you, I came to learn.”

“Well, there’s another thing boarding school’s supposed to teach you, and that’s making friends with the people in your year.” Harry fired back. “And it doesn’t look to me like you’ve got any of those, so far.”

“Not true.” Sarah said smugly, setting aside the piece of parchment she’d been writing on so that the ink could dry. She looked up at Harry, a smirk on her face. “I have a friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry scoffed. “Give me a name and five facts, and I’ll believe this ‘friend’ of yours is real.”

“His name is Kyung Nang. He’s got a little sister named Shin-ji, who will be in the same year as the triplets. He’s witnessed property damage at her hands almost as often as we have at Anju’s. He’s quite good at Potions. We work well as partners. And, as your fifth and final fact, he is the kind of older brother that does not draw genitalia in Potions books he knows his little sister will be using.” Sarah finished, crossing her arms. “Do you believe me now?”

“You did that way too easily.” Harry said, shaking his head. “But whatever, if you’re invested enough in creating this fake friend that you’re trying to fake a little sister, you just want this guy to suffer anyway.”

“Little sisters do not automatically cause suffering.” Sarah said, frowning. If anything, she made the strange hellscape Harry had created for himself much easier to live in.

“Ours does.” Harry pointed out.

“That’s one among many.” Sarah argued.

“Well, your friend’s got one that does, and so does Ron, so that’s four of four.” Harry said, shaking his head. “When will we all be free?”

“Who’s the fourth?” Sarah asked calmly, and Harry quickly stood up, tugging at his robes where they’d bunched up.

“Yeah, about that, three of three. I meant that. Right.” Harry said, laughing nervously. “You’re great. Don’t even think about it.”

“Right.” Sarah said, unconvinced. “I’m only going to say this once more. Go away.”

“Fine, I will.” Harry said, looking exasperated, before, as far as Sarah was concerned, returning to the deep, dark hole from whence he’d come.

Finally, she’d get to write her essay in peace. The good thing about having one friend was that you at least had sufficient time to get work done.

Two friends, as she’d seen her brother struggle with, seemed like far too much work to bother with.


	5. Inspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How many times?” Harry asked, picking up the quill. He spun it around in his hand a few times to find a proper grip before setting the tip to the paper. Lines. He could do this. “And what do I write?”
> 
> “Oh, as many times as it takes for the message to really sink in.” Umbridge said, with a grin, before retreating to her desk. “‘I must not tell lies’ is what you’ll be writing for me tonight. And as many nights as it takes for the message to take hold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a lot of warnings, mostly with regard to manipulation of a child, intentional injury caused to a child and abuse of authority, and we would both like to remind you all that your safety comes first. The last scene in this chapter is a detention scene very similar to those described in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and if those triggered or bothered you at all, we do not suggest reading it. Your safety and health come first. 
> 
> If you'd like to skip over the chapter and join us again next week (where there'll be discussion of what happened, but nothing explicitly stated, like in this chapter, as far as I know), that's totally fine. Stop by either of our tumblrs, and we'll be glad to catch you up. On our part, we'll keep posting warnings for Umbridge's detentions at the top of chapters containing them for as long as it's applicable.
> 
> Have a great week, and we're sorry about this chapter, honest.
> 
> -S&L

When Harry and Ron descended the dormitory stairs, they were immediately met with a pair of incredibly excited twins. George grabbed Ron, swinging his sputtering brother around in an impromptu two-step, while Fred threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You’re looking at the future of the Wizarding World, boys!” Fred crowed.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is ready for action!” George agreed, his laughter bouncing off the walls as he flung Ron into Harry, who stumbled backward, barely avoiding falling over.

“What the bloody hell are you two going on about?” Ron demanded, straightening his rumpled robes.

“This!” They shouted in unison, thrusting a piece of parchment into Harry’s hands.

 

> _Dear Fred and George Weasley,_
> 
> _We’ve been waiting a long time for our heirs in mischief-making to make themselves known, and don’t worry, boys-- your valiant efforts to equal (or exceed) the magnitude of our reign of terror will not go unrecognized. You’ve set yourselves an impossible task, and that’s what we like-- ambition and risky goal setting. Your decision to take things a step further and go into the business world is incredibly inspired, and we agree wholeheartedly-- if circumstances had been different, we might have done the same, but we’re very glad that someone’s finally going to compete with Zonko’s._
> 
> _As all good pranksters (and businessmen, adds Prongs, who has gotten quite boring in his old age) know, you can’t just run on ideas-- you need food and money too, and while Hogwarts definitely keeps you well taken care of on the food part, it can’t give you money. And your time at Hogwarts, despite our best efforts, can’t actually last forever._
> 
> _Luckily, that’s where we come in._
> 
> _There is now an account in your name in Gringotts (key attached-- check the envelope), and don’t waste time asking the goblins who started it, because they’ve been told not to tell you. Our identities have always been secret, and as fellow pranksters, you know the importance of that._
> 
> _Do good things with the money. We’ll be watching._
> 
> _Mischief managed,_  
>  _The Marauders_

“The Marauders?” Harry asked, feigning disbelief. “They wrote you a letter?”

The letter was clearly in Uncle Sirius’ handwriting, which made sense, considering Fred and George had had both Uncle Remus and Harry’s father as teachers, and would likely figure out the connection in a heartbeat. Uncle Sirius was both the smartest and only option, considering the fourth Marauder was not someone anyone wanted to meet, especially after his actions this past summer.

“They sent you a letter and- and funded your shop!” Ron clutched the parchment, reading and rereading the surprisingly neat penmanship.

“Obviously, they know true genius when they see it.” Fred said with a grin. Even the ever-present glint of mischief in the twin’s eyes couldn’t drown out the joy and excitement they were obviously feeling. They had made quite a bit of money over the years, running betting pools. Predicting the outcome of the World Cup had certainly put them ahead in their plans, but this was the last piece to their puzzle. And, considering the last piece had been delivered by their heroes, who they’d heard so many stories about as children whenever James or Sirius had been babysitting, the twins couldn’t be happier.

“How come you’re staying then?” Harry asked, curious. “If you’ve got the money, you might as well get out of here, considering Umbridge isn’t going to be very good for the school.”

“Well, mum would kill us if we didn’t at least try for our NEWTS.” Fred shrugged.

“Not to mention, we’re still in the testing phase. Now that we have money for ingredients, we can start getting to work with the ickle firsties.” George grinned.

“Think Sarah would want to taste test some of our nosebleed nougats?” Fred asked.

“Sarah would commit murder.” Harry said, shaking his head. No, his sister wouldn’t stand for that at all. Although Sarah enjoyed a good prank just as much as all the other Potter kids, asking her to test a product intended to help others skip school would not be a good idea.

“True. Maybe Drew, next year.” George sighed, tossing his hands up.

“I really don’t think you’ll last that long.” Ron snorted. “If you needed the money, and I had any, I’d bet on it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, little bro.” Fred nudged Ron with his elbow as his twin wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah, we don’t mind giving you a loan.”

“I hate both of you, and if Percy wasn’t a prat, you’d be my least favorite siblings.”

“Probably Drew.” Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Anne might ask for compensation for her time, and you’re not allowed anywhere near Matt.”

“Matt is scared of us.” They responded, George letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Matt’s scared of everyone. Except me. And Sarah. Mostly Sarah, though.” Harry said. He thought Matt wasn’t scared of him, at least. He’d have to ask, in his next letter. Or maybe he could just scribble it onto the end of Sarah’s. That sounded like a real solution.

“Well, there’s your girlfriend.” Fred said, throwing a glance over his shoulder. Hermione had entered the common room.

“Speaking of, I’m going to go find my boyfriend.” George turned on his heel, heading for the portrait hole.

“She isn’t anyone’s girlfriend.” Ron scowled after the twins as Fred departed.

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “She’d say dating’s a distraction from her studies or something. That’s not a problem for me, since I’ve got bigger things on my mind than grades at this point.”

“Like the little pink troll who’s gonna be monitoring your dad’s class.” Ron grumbled.

“No matter how horrendous she is, it’s still wrong to call her a troll based on her appearance.” Hermione said as she joined the boys.

“She’s been trying to pass anti-Muggleborn legislation for years.” Harry pointed out.

“She’s a troll.” Hermione said, eyes narrowing. “Carry on.”

“Let’s get going-- if we’re lucky, there’ll still be some breakfast left.” Ron said.

“Maybe she’ll ban breakfast.” Harry said, sighing. “She’s probably got more power than she knows what to do with.”

“Hey, at least she isn’t headmaster.” Ron said.

* * *

 

“I hope you won’t take any of my comments personally, Mr. Potter.” The toad said, smiling brightly as she surveyed the classroom. Harry was thankful that Hogwarts more or less mandated quill usage these days, because while his aim with a pencil was unrivaled, his aim with a quill could still use some work.

“Of course I won’t.” James said, smiling back. “It’s all a matter of making sure the teachers are of a good quality, and I’ll take all the help I can get.” Sometimes Harry forgot that his father had been just as well trained in the art of people pleasing as Lucius Malfoy, although, in his opinion, his father was much better at it, considering he didn’t pair lying with throwing his money around everywhere.

“I feel like we’ve stepped into an alternate dimension.” Ron mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on Harry’s father. “Please tell me if your mum was here she’d be fighting this lady?”

“Mum doesn’t even need a reason.” Harry shrugged. “She’s fought people for less than existing, before. It’s why we keep Dad around.”

“A good match, then.” Hermione said, watching the front of the classroom just as closely as Ron was.

“A match made in hell.” Harry snorted. “You haven’t heard about half the things they’ve gotten up to.”

“And you have?” Ron asked incredulously. “Parents always keep the wildest stories to themselves. Keeps us from rebelling, Bill says.”

“If they’re keeping the wildest stories to themselves, I’m a little worried.” Harry said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He’d honestly never thought about that possibility before. That opened up a whole new realm of problems.

“Alright, class!” James said, clapping his hands to get their attention like they were preschoolers. The action seemed to garner Umbridge’s approval, as she scribbled something down on the clipboard she was carrying. “Today, we’re going to be studying conflict avoidance.” A flash of disappointment crossed James’ face, but he kept on bravely. “Turn to page eighty-six, take notes on the chapter, and then pair up with someone close by and quietly come up with an example for each technique described.”

“Great. Not only do we not get to actually study Defense, now we’re learning conflict avoidance.” Harry muttered, turning the pages furiously. “It’s almost like they don’t want us learning anything at all.”

“Mr. Potter.” James said, and Harry looked up sharply. His father’s face was impassive, and that bothered Harry more than anything else. “The discussion happens after you read, not before.”

There was a smattering of snickers from the Slytherins, and Draco hissed a soft, “in trouble with daddy, Potter?”

“If I may”, Umbridge spoke up, looking quite delighted, “your son has quite the history of talking about things he knows nothing of.”

Harry was about to stand up and give her a piece of his own mind when his father nodded, looking apologetic.

“All teenagers do, Dolores. It’s an unfortunate part of growing up.” James said.

“That is true.” She agreed, and Harry shot a glare at his father the next time Umbridge was looking away.

“He’s totally sucking up.” Ron whispered in horror. “What is he doing?”

“I thought you were the chess player, Ron.” Hermione whispered back. “Professor Potter’s just trying to keep the family out of the news again. Can you imagine what would happen if Harry took Umbridge to task? The Prophet would just about kill them.”

“Strategy is different than politics.” Ron mumbled sullenly.

“We won’t have to imagine what will happen, if she keeps going like that.” Harry said, gritting his teeth. “What the hell does she think she’s doing anyway?”

“ _Language_ , Mr. Potter.” A familiar voice chirped from the front of the room, and Dolores Umbridge muttered something under her breath while scrawling something on her clipboard. “I say, Professor, you let an awful lot slide in this classroom. Vulgar language, disobedience, slander--”

“What’s that slander you’re talking about?” Harry asked, standing up. It felt like his blood was burning in his veins. He should’ve known the Ministry intervention was really about this all along. He should’ve known they were out to get him. All the doubts that had building up in the back of his head had been confirmed, and there was no turning back, now that he’d taken a stand.

“Oh, when you accused the Ministry of failing to recognize the return of You-Know-Who.” Umbridge said. “We would certainly have noticed, had such a return actually happened--”

“It happened! I’m not lying!” Harry interrupted, eyes wide. Were they still playing that angle? “It’s been weeks and you’re still acting like I’m faking it? People are disappearing again! It’s in the papers, it’s just like it was last time--”

“If You-Know-Who had really come back, then we would know before a fifteen year old boy.” Umbridge said imperiously. “Especially one that sees fit to speak to an authority figure like this. Since your father won’t discipline you, I suppose I will have to. Detention with me, eight-thirty sharp. I will not tolerate tardiness.”

Draco let out a delighted noise from behind them, and Ron’s immediate glare did nothing to temper his glee. “Have fun, Potter.”

“Anything to say, Professor?” Umbridge turned toward James, quill at the ready. “I should warn you, your report isn’t looking very good, at the moment, despite a good start.”

“There are standards for behavior in this classroom, standards I’ve laid out consistently since your first year. And if a student continually disregards them, then punishment is to be expected.” James said, after a moment’s thought. “I suppose I was too surprised to act immediately-- I expect better behavior than that from my first years.”

Now, Harry thought, his father looked truly disappointed. He wasn’t sure whether to be gladdened or upset by that fact, as the look on his face ensured that Harry would be in loads of trouble apart from what Umbridge had decided upon. No, Harry’s mother would certainly be hearing about this, and she would not be happy.

Umbridge’s expression shifted toward something resembling relief, and she scribbled down a final note on her clipboard before checking the time. “I really must be going, I’ve got two more classes to check this period. You’ll be receiving your results within two weeks, Professor.”

“I’ll be waiting.” James nodded, doing his best to keep up a smile as Umbridge exited the classroom. When the Gryffindors looked expectantly at him, as if expecting him to change the assignment set now that Umbridge wasn’t watching, he shrugged. “Keep reading. Nothing worth looking at, up here.”

“How is anyone going to defeat him if we don’t know anything?” Hermione asked, flipping through the pages. “Conflict avoidance isn’t going to do anything against Voldemort.” She whispered the name, scanning the classroom as she did it, but no one’s attention had been caught.

“We’re doomed.” Harry said, under his breath. The Ministry, in their efforts to keep the news quiet, was only helping Voldemort win. Of course, if that came out, they’d find another way to blame it on him. It was an exhausting cycle, and he wondered sometimes if it wouldn’t be easier to just disappear into the Muggle world and call it quits with magic once and for all. “It’s all over.”

* * *

 

The trio huddled together at the end of the Gryffindor table at lunch, a bubble of tense silence in the loud atmosphere of the Great Hall. The noise level was significantly lower than normal, probably due to the fact that the presence of Umbridge in everyone’s classes was more than enough to bring anyone’s mood down. Except, of course, the Slytherins, who seemed just as rowdy as any day.

“That was terrible.” Ron finally announced. “First the new syllabus, now this? And giving Harry detention?”

“The new syllabus isn’t the worst of anybody’s problems.” Harry muttered, stabbing viciously at a pea with his fork. It split open far too easy, spilling its guts in a thick, green puddle, and his stomach protested at the sight. Today, it seemed, was not a lunch eating day.

“Why won’t anyone believe us?” Ron stared up at the teacher’s table, gaze somber. “It isn’t like you could have kidnapped yourself off the train. We don’t even know how to apparate, yet.”

“I might’ve done it. Sort of.” Harry shrugged. “Besides, the current story’s that I’ve lost my mind, and am barely functioning well enough to terrorize all of Hogwarts and attempt to destroy the Ministry’s reputation while keeping decent grades, so they don’t have to worry about the mechanics of the kidnapping too much.”

“An effective strategy.” Hermione said solemnly. “A horrible one, but effective.”

“Can’t fault them on that.” Harry sighed. “They’re doing what they’re doing right. Makes you wonder how many times this has happened before.”

“Never trust the media.” Ron decided. “I’ll never pay for another newspaper as long as I live.”

“The only part of a newspaper worth reading is the sports section.” Harry said, nodding seriously. “Also the crossword.”

“We should make one like that. Just crosswords, the sports section, and I can do a bogus horoscope. ‘You will encounter a troll on your way to work today’.” Ron snorted.

“There are Muggle books that are just crosswords, you know.” Hermione said. “I can find you a couple.”

“But you’re coming home with me for winter break- and… summer, too, right?” Ron said, looking confused.

“I meant I’d mail order them, Ron.” Hermione said, although it felt a little artificial. “I’ll look into it.”

“Hey, uh… Speaking of mail. I haven’t really noticed you writing letters to your parents. You used to do it every week.” Ron looked hesitant, as if the idea of bringing this up had been weighing on him quite awhile.

“I’ve been busy lately.” Hermione said. “They’ve likely missed the letters. I’ll be sure to write them tonight. I’ve got some free time scheduled in.”

“You schedule your free time?” Harry said in disbelief.

“We’ve known her for four years, and you still find that surprising?” Ron glanced up from his food. “She probably schedules her own bathroom breaks.”

“I don’t schedule my own bathroom breaks.” Hermione muttered, sounding just as sullen as Ron had during Defense. “That would be preposterous.”

“Somebody’s getting awfully defensive.” Harry teased. “If we took your schedule out of your bag right now, would we find “bathroom break” written in?”

“No, you would not.” Hermione said, scowling.

“Ron.” Harry said solemnly. “We have to check, now.”

“Hand over the bag and no one gets hurt.” Ron teased.

“The real issue at hand is how we’re keeping Harry from getting another detention, not whether I have bathroom breaks scheduled.” Hermione said. “So focusing on that would be much better.”

“She definitely schedules her bathroom breaks.” Ron decided, though the reminder of Harry’s detention seemed to weigh the joke down.

“She’ll be trying her level best to give me a second one before the first one’s done.” Harry sighed, looking rather downcast. “Any suggestions?”

“Tell her you’re transferring to Slytherin.” Ron said. “That’ll get you on her good side.”

“At this point”, Harry said, sighing, “It’s worth a shot.”

* * *

 

“The school books are interesting, but they’re rather boring.” Kyung said without preamble. He took a seat beside Sarah, holding the first years’ Potions textbook.

“They’re school books.” Sarah said, shrugging. “They’re meant to be boring. Although the lecture far outstrips the book, on that count, in History of Magic. Can you believe they’ve just been letting a ghost teach for years?”

“It makes sense, from an outside perspective. He must have been alive for some of the history.” Kyung reasoned. “I’d be a little concerned if he was teaching modern events.”

“That makes sense. My brother’s reasoning is that you have to be dead to want to teach that class.” Sarah said, shaking her head.

“How do you suppose they pay him…?” Kyung mused.

“Ghosts don’t eat human food, nor would they have any use for money. Maybe they have a room for him?” Sarah asked, frowning. “I’m not sure. I’ll ask my father, he should know.”

“Perks of having your father for a professor.” Kyung let out a quiet laugh.

“Not exactly a perk. You remember his class.” Sarah said, looking rather disappointed. “I understand we aren’t learning much off the bat, being first years, but it is rather disappointing. The werewolf lesson is apparently the same one he delivered when my brother was a first year.” She looked around the courtyard, and caught sight of her brother heading straight for them, looking rather troubled. “Speaking of disappointing, here he comes.”

Kyung looked up as Harry approached, turning to Sarah. “Is that your brother? The one who drew in your textbook.”

“The very same.” Sarah said. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Umbridge.” Harry replied, running a hand through his hair, before he spotted Kyung. “Are you busy?”

“Yes.” Sarah said. “It’s probably urgent, though, if you’ve come to me.”

“A bit.” Harry shrugged. “There’s a bit of a time limit.”

“You’ve gotten a detention already, haven’t you?” Sarah asked, and didn’t look too disappointed, to her credit.

“Might have.” Harry said sheepishly. “She, uh, mouthed off about this summer. I had to talk back. You get it.”

Sarah’s expression went dark. “Yeah.”

“Watch yourself, is all I’m saying.” Harry said. “She’ll be after you next. Business aside, who’s this little guy? Holding someone captive?”

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Kyung raised an eyebrow. “I’m Kyung Nang. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“He’s real.” Harry said, looking quite confused. “Nice to meet you as well, Kyung.”

“You honestly thought I would have put that much effort into faking a friend?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms. She looked amused, more so than anything else.

“I don’t see why you would have to.” Kyung seemed surprised by Harry’s assumptions. “You’re good company.”

“Wow. Mum’s hearing about this.” Harry said, surprised.

“She already has.” Sarah said. “It’s not news. Your latest problem, however, will be.”

“Then you write her about it.” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, uh, I’ll leave you two to it. Have fun. Watch out for the toad. I get the feeling her detentions are worse than Snape’s.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Sarah said, smirking. “I haven’t gotten one.”

“Give it a couple weeks.” Harry said, with a wave of his hand. “You’ll remind him of Dad and then he’ll give you one for breathing.”

“She seemed eager to hand out detentions.” Kyung hummed. “I think most of the first years were too scared to give her a reason.”

“Keep it that way.” Harry said, as seriously as he could. “Really.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kyung said seriously. “Good luck with your detention?”

“Thanks, mate.” Harry grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

 

At eight-thirty on the dot, Harry knocked twice on the door to the office Umbridge had been temporarily assigned, trying to keep his nervousness to a minimum. His hands were shaking, and he was sure that it was dreadfully obvious that he’d been worrying about this detention all afternoon. He shoved them in his pockets, not caring that Umbridge would likely tell him he looked like a hooligan, which his Aunt Petunia had become quite fond of doing, these days. That was why Umbridge bothered him so much-- she reminded him quite strongly of his aunt.

“The worst she could do is make you write lines, Hari.” He told himself, trying his best to calm his nerves. “She’s got nothing to clean, and she doesn’t have those cursed file cabinets like Filch did, so her options are limited.”

The door swung open, and the first thing he noticed was that the office was terrifyingly pink-- shades of the color covered every single available surface in the room, which was dominated by portraits of cats. The cats, like Harry himself, did not look very happy to be there. He could understand that-- listening to Umbridge’s voice all day sounded like a terrible prospect, and one he’d like to avoid at all costs.

“Come in.” Umbridge said, and Harry stepped in obediently, looking around. “Get out some parchment. You’ll be writing lines for me today.”

Harry’s shoulders, previously held tensely, relaxed slightly, and Umbridge’s smile seemed to widen in response. He sat down at the table that had been set up for him, and dug a piece of parchment out of his bag before searching for a quill.

“I’ve got a special quill for you to use.” Umbridge said, striding over to her desk to retrieve a thin, long black quill before placing it lightly on the edge of the table. Harry reached into his bag for an inkwell, noticing she hadn’t supplied one, and she interrupted him before he could dig his own out of his bag. “Ink isn’t necessary, Mr. Potter. Begin writing immediately.”

“How many times?” Harry asked, picking up the quill. He spun it around in his hand a few times to find a proper grip before setting the tip to the paper. Lines. He could do this. “And what do I write?”

“Oh, as many times as it takes for the message to really sink in.” Umbridge said, with a grin, before retreating to her desk. “‘I must not tell lies’ is what you’ll be writing for me tonight. And as many nights as it takes for the message to take hold.”

Harry knew better than to protest. Detentions, by this point in his school career, were as regular as breathing. He just kept doing both, despite Voldemort’s best efforts. I must not tell lies, he thought, what absolute rubbish. If anyone was telling lies, it was the Ministry, pretending that Voldemort wasn’t back.

He began to write, suddenly noticing a searing pain in the back of his left hand. He grit his teeth, and continued writing, keeping his focus completely on the page. Miraculously, even without ink, the words showed up on the parchment in a dark red color. He didn’t think to connect it to the pain in his hand until he paused at the end of the fifth line to take a breath, and noticed the words scrawled on the back of his hand.

I must not tell lies, the angry red scar said, in his own handwriting. Harry swallowed back a scream, eyes wide. This had to be illegal! A quill that did this was certainly a Dark Object. He looked to the other side of the office to find Umbridge watching him expectantly, sipping her tea as if this was a normal part of her day.

“You know what I think, Mr. Potter?” She asked, seeming to delight in the way his hands shook. “I think you know that you’re wrong about this. You’re just worried that they’ll forget about you, aren’t you? The Tournament wasn’t about you in the slightest, and you hated that, didn’t you? You just want the attention, from this. You don’t care how it hurts people, to think that someone that terrible might be back.”

Harry swallowed hard, shaking his head. Panic rose in him at Umbridge’s words, bile climbing steadily up his throat, leaving a burning trail in its wake. He didn’t want that. It wasn’t about attention. It was about the graveyard, about warning people so no one got hurt. It was about saving everyone. Last year had been great solely because it hadn’t been about him in the slightest. “You-- you’re wrong. It’s not like that at all.” He said, as bravely as he could manage.

“Then, obviously”, Umbridge said coolly, “the message hasn’t sunken in enough yet. Well? Keep going?”

Harry grit his teeth again, steeling himself for the pain, and began to write again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to be back again on Friday, April 1st, because both of us have got a busy week ahead! Sorry about the delay!


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She made me write lines, and I pitched a little fit about it, but I did it.” Harry shrugged. “Not as bad as cleaning cauldrons or anything. Definitely not as bad as answering fanmail with Lockhart.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Just lines? Nothing else?” Hermione asked, and relief flooded her features upon Harry’s answering nod. “Oh, I’m glad.”
> 
>  
> 
> Harry thought of the back of his hand, which had turned a worrying shade of red in addition to being ridiculously itchy and slightly swollen, and felt distinctly not glad. “Yeah.” He said, mustering up all the enthusiasm he could manage. “Me as well.”

****James had barely stepped out of the fireplace when his wife shoved a piece of parchment into his face. “Your daughter sent me a letter.” She told him seriously. “But I haven’t gotten anything from Hari.”

“Hold on, hold on, why is she my daughter all of a sudden?” James frowned. “What did she do?”

“She informed me that Hari got a detention from the ministry woman, and he hasn’t written me a letter!” She repeated, rubbing the parchment against his cheek as though to encourage him to defend their son’s honor.

“He never writes.” James pointed out. “And Umbridge… she’s been making her fair share of enemies since she got to Hogwarts. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hari tired himself out fighting with her."

“So he hasn’t spoken to you either.” She deduced, finally withdrawing the letter.

“He avoids that as much as possible, in school.” James said. “He’s trying to avoid a repeat of  Professor Dad, although he’s used to me enough that it shouldn’t be a problem, now.”

“It just doesn’t sit right.” Lily crossed her arms. Her red hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she was dressed in oversized pajama pants that James was almost certain had been his, at one point. “Usually he writes for advice, when someone like Umbridge shows up. I hadn’t thought he’d grown out of the habit, just yet.”

“He had a tough summer.” James said, after thinking about it for a second. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. It was easier to handle him at home, since both of us were here, but now...” James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ll try talking to him tomorrow.”

“Good plan. I wonder why I didn’t think of that?” Lily raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Are you making fun of me?” James asked, confused.

“Would I ever do that to you?” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “Anyways, how are you holding up? Not cracking under the pressure, are we?”

“Well, our children think I’m an idiot, which was sort of the goal.” James shrugged. “Hari’s particularly angry at me, I think, but with people with too much power, like Umbridge, you have to make sure to keep on their good side. He’s fifteen. I don’t expect him to understand that though, nor do I want him to. He’s… He’s got enough on his plate already.”

Lily sighed, whatever amusement she’d been harboring sliding off her shoulders at the reminder. “Yeah. But I feel like he’s going to be even more upset with us for keeping him in the dark.” She rubbed at her temples. “Hopefully Hermione’s figured out your act and explained it to him, at the very least.”

“He’s your son.” James said, cracking a smile. “He’s going to be upset whether we tell him or not.”

“Your daughter, my son. And here I thought I was getting the triplets in the divorce.” Lily turned to sit on the couch. “But if that stays true to form, he’ll start liking you again around seventh year.”

“Remus gets the triplets. We agreed on that.” James said. “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll punch me in the face sixth year and call it quits after that.”

“I did not call it quits!” Lily protested. “We have five kids!”

“Temporarily, you did.” James pointed out.

“Temporarily.” She agreed begrudgingly. “And where would you be if it had been permanent?”

“Probably here.” James shrugged. “Much less happy, though.”

“Are you gonna stand there all night or come sit with your lovely wife?” Lily asked. “You haven’t told me how _you’re_ dealing with Umbridge, yet.”

“I’ll take the lovely wife, for sure.” James said, joining her on the couch. “Oh, I’m dealing. That’s the best way to put it. I’m dealing."

“That’s probably all I can ask for.” She hummed, propping her legs across his lap. “Any word yet on her creepy overseeing?”

“She’s trying awfully hard to make me admit I’m secretly planning to overthrow the Ministry.” James remarked. “And I’m seriously entertaining the idea the more she implies I’m going to do it, I mean, at this point, I’d rather just do it and deal with the consequences than hear about it again.”

“We can just set Charu and Anju loose on them.” Lily suggested. “Give them an hour and I’m sure they’ll have the majority of it dismantled. Not that it’s particularly well put-together to begin with.”

“Speaking of Charu, actually, that little friend of hers is really egging her on.” James said. “They’re terrifying.”

“His name was Kyung, right?” Lily asked, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “They’re eleven. They can’t be that bad.”

“They are.” James said, entirely serious. “They are just as bad as you think they are, and worse."

“What are they doing?” She asked indulgently.

“Just yesterday, Flitwick called me down to his office saying he wanted to talk to me, so you know how it is. Got the Parent Teacher Conference Points list you made out and made my way down there, and apparently these two are already asking for permission to check books out of the Restricted Section!” James said incredulously. “They’re first years! It’s September!’

“That sounds like Charu.” Lily hummed. “I’m glad she’s making friends with similar interests. Honestly, we should be happy they even bothered asking for permission. You gave her the Invisibility Cloak, after all.”

“Because I could trust her not to use it. And, to her credit, she hasn’t.” James said. “Good thing I made that decision. Can you imagine what Hari would have done with the cloak?”

“He would have already snuck into the restricted section, without asking permission.” She groaned. “And don’t even get me started on the map.”

“That’s going to Madhu, if he wants it.” James said. “Adi and Anju are banned from having anything of mine. Permanently. Forever.”

“That’s smart.” Lily agreed. “I can’t imagine they’d do anything smart with it. And Madhu’ll need the help not getting lost… Especially since he probably won’t end up in Gryffindor.”

“He won’t. There’s no probably.” James said. “He’s old enough that it’s obvious.”

“Should we get him used to the idea now or just let him deal with it next year?” Lily asked.

“Do our best now, I think.” James replied. “He’s got to be at least entertaining the idea, going in. Doesn’t have to be seriously, but it has to cross his mind in a somewhat good way. He’s probably worrying about it already, a whole year ahead of time.”

“He’s your son. He never stops worrying.” Lily’s gaze moved from the ceiling to her husband’s face, a fond look filling her eyes. “But he’s always alright in the end.”

“I’m not a worrier. What are you talking about?” James scoffed.

“Sure you aren’t.” She rolled her eyes.

“You know what I would worry about, if I were the kind of person that worried, though?” James asked. “I’m probably going to be out of a job soon. Umbridge’s evaluation was brutal.”

“What’d she say?” Lily asked, leaning forward.

“I’ve got a few quotes memorized, let me think. ‘Professor Potter continually encourages children to aspire to his example-- that is, to be rude, disrespectful and unmindful of consequences’. That was a good one. My personal favorite, though, is the bit she put in about Charu and Hari.” James said, chuckling. “Inspired, truly.”

“Well you aren’t going to leave me hanging, are you?”

“Let’s see.” James frowned. “There it is. Yeah. ‘Sarah and Harry Potter are apparently the only children learning in his classroom, and they have learned everything Professor Potter has to teach-- disrespect, dishonesty and a complete lack of concern for the rules.’ It’s quite good, actually. We should frame that. The new Potter family motto-- disrespect, dishonesty and a complete lack of concern for the rules. It’s a bit long, though, for a motto.”

“We can put it on the family crest.” Lily decided, curling into her husband’s side. “Madhu will be the oddball out.”

“True.” James laughed. “He’s the exact opposite of all that. Someone really saved the best for last, huh?”

“I do try.” Lily agreed. “Probably why I took so long to come around to you, what with the punching and all.”

“Hey, if I managed it, then we’re guaranteed a break with Hari once he gets past fifteen.” James said. “If he gets through exams without doing anything particularly regrettable, after that, he’s fine.”

“Oh no.” She moaned. “You jinxed it.”

“Fine. You can punch him sixth year too.” James sighed. “That’ll help set him straight.”

“No son of ours is going to end up straight.” Lily mumbled.

“That’s grounds for a firing.” James said seriously. “Good thing we won’t have to worry about that.”

* * *

“Harry.” Hermione said gently, easing into the chair beside him slowly, so as not to startle him. Harry appreciated the effort-- since the detention the night before, he’d been feeling rather ill. He didn’t want to think about the aching cut on the back of his hand, which he was currently hiding through the clever usage of a Sticking Charm on his sweater. Could it be that? He’d heard of cuts getting infected, and he’d taken care to wash it with whatever soap he could find before falling asleep the night before, even though it had burned quite a bit. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, swallowing hard. He certainly didn’t feel alright, but there was no need to bother Hermione with it. She had seemed rather flustered, since they’d returned to school, and that was a very strong indication that she had more than enough to deal with already. She didn’t need his problems on top of that, especially when his problems were his fault, for once. He’d mouthed off to Umbridge, even after being warned not to. Had it been for attention, like that old toad said? Was he really that horrible? “I’m-- I’m just shaking off something, at the moment. Been feeling poorly since yesterday afternoon.”

“And how are you feeling now?” Hermione asked, grabbing his face by the chin and feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. Harry, as he often did, somehow endured. “You do feel rather warm…” Now that she’d mentioned it, he’d felt rather sweaty all day, and his limbs had felt like they were being weighed down. If he’d told Sarah, she would’ve said he was finally getting dragged down to hell where he belonged and promptly written their mother, saying that Harry was sick and refusing to go to the hospital wing.

Good thing he hadn’t told Sarah.

“A little better than yesterday night, for sure.” He said hesitantly, and the split second change in his tone, as he’d worried about, immediately caught Hermione’s attention.

“How was the detention?” She asked, and Harry’s mind, previously crammed to the brim with loudly buzzing thoughts and questions and fears, went completely blank. What was he going to tell her? What was he going to tell Ron? What was he going to tell his parents? He couldn’t possibly tell the truth-- they’d all think he was lying, without proof, and there was no way he was showing anyone his hand. It was just too embarrassing. He’d fought off Voldemort by himself, but couldn’t manage to take on a mean old lady with a Blood Quill? It was just shameful, how easily he’d given up. He should’ve fought her, but he was just too scared, a common fixture in his life, after the events of the summer.

If he continued on with that pattern, he thought glumly, Voldemort would have him for a midmorning snack, and then the rest of the Wizarding World for lunch. There would be no hope left. Maybe, he thought, remembering Voldemort’s strange obsession with killing him in particular, the man would stop at that. He knew well that any reasonable limit was out of the question, but it was still a rather nice thing to hope about. 

“It was a detention.” He said simply, hoping that was enough. Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced, and Harry cycled through every curse word he knew in his head while trying to come up with a decent explanation. “I did normal detention stuff.”

“Like?” Hermione asked. If Hermione didn’t believe him, how was he going to convince anyone else? Harry suddenly felt distinctly useless, and tried his best to shake it off quickly. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that, not now. There would be time enough for that later.

“Detent?” Harry said, hoping that was a word.

“That’s not a word. At least not in the way you’re using it.” Hermione replied, frowning. “What really happened?”

“She made me write lines, and I pitched a little fit about it, but I did it.” Harry shrugged. “Not as bad as cleaning cauldrons or anything. _Definitely_ not as bad as scrubbing chamber pots with Filch.”

“Just lines? Nothing else?” Hermione asked, and relief flooded her features upon Harry’s answering nod. “Oh, I’m glad.”

Harry thought of the back of his hand, which had turned a worrying shade of red in addition to being ridiculously itchy and slightly swollen, and felt distinctly not glad. “Yeah.” He said, mustering up all the enthusiasm he could manage. “Me as well.”

“You’ll do your best not to get another one, right?” Hermione asked, and Harry nodded. That was first on his list of priorities, but judging by the downright predatory expression on Umbridge’s face when he’d left the night before, he didn’t think he’d have to do anything at all to earn a second. “Good. I just… It’s hard, seeing you like this, and it must be even harder to be living it.” Hermione almost looked sad, and Harry wanted nothing more than to just be able to wave his wand and put things right again. “I just don’t want you in more trouble.”

“Yeah.” Harry said, patting her hand. Hermione, thankfully, missed the fact that his sleeve didn’t budge from where it had been stuck neatly to his palm, nor did she notice the flash of pain on his face when he moved his fingers a little too quickly. He could hide this. No one would have to know, and it would be his little secret. “Me either.”

* * *

“Harry! Hermione!” Ron stood up, waving his friends over as they entered the Great Hall together. His red hair was in a disarray, but there was an excited expression on his face.

Harry ran over to Ron, leaving Hermione to catch up with him. “Hey! How were tryouts?”

“Really great!” He exclaimed, before clearing his throat and attempting to hide his obvious enthusiasm. “I mean- I think I did pretty well! Considering how out of practice I am, and all.”

“Aww, shut up, you’re not out of practice.” Harry said, reaching up to ruffle Ron’s hair as Hermione joined them. “Our Ron’s a great Quidditch player. Isn’t he, Hermione?”

“He is.” Hermione said, rather confidently. “I watched the tryouts, and it was actually quite fun.”

“Sorry, I would’ve come too.” Harry said. “The toad calls, though.”

“Yeah- how’d that go, anyways?” Ron frowned at him, suddenly concerned. “I figure her detention wasn’t just scrubbing out cauldrons.”

“Lines.” Harry said, grimacing. “Gross.”

“Ugh, talk about boring.” Ron threw an arm around Harry’s shoulder, his free hand jabbing at his chest. “Don’t you worry. We can play a round of quidditch with the twins, later, and that’ll get it right out of your head.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Harry said, smiling. “God knows I need to get my mind off it. She’ll be after me again soon enough.”

“Avoid eye contact.” Ron advised. “It’s like a gorgon- she’ll turn you to stone if you look at her beady little eyes. Fred and George might have something to get you out of class.”

“They don’t need first years when they’ve got me.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate your sacrifice.” Ron told him seriously.

“If I’ve got to die for something, it might as well have a point.” Harry shrugged.

“Using human test subjects isn’t safe.” Hermione said, frowning. “Especially if they’re not sure what their products do. Side effects could be devastating.”

“Would you rather they used house elves?” Ron asked dryly. “They’re paying people who sign up to test the candies. Plus, they always test it on themselves first. It’s probably… fifty percent safe?”

“Fifty percent isn’t safe, Ron.”

“Zero percent isn’t safe.” Harry pointed out. “Fifty percent is a little safe."

“Like halfway safe.” Ron agreed.

“Not safe _enough_.” Hermione clarified.

“Don’t you think halfway safe is already pushing it, for the twins?” Ron asked incredulously.

“For the twins…” Hermione began, then nodded. “You’re right. It is.”

“They’ve got results, I mean, isn’t that what matters?” Harry asked, and Hermione stared at him incredulously. “Okay. Maybe that was not the right thing to say. Safety matters. I love safety.”

“I feel like I’ve given a recap of our first three years at Hogwarts often enough to prove you wrong.” Ron said.

“Give it again.” Harry said with a grin. “I like hearing about myself.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ron shoved at Harry’s shoulder, rolling his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like your sister.”

“Which one?” Harry asked. “That’s how I find out how bad it is, really. If I’m on Anne’s level, I’ve got something to worry about. If I’m on Sarah’s level, then I should just give up and donate myself to science already.”

“Anne.” Ron said. “Sarah would never say what you just said. She’s too sneaky."

“She is.” Harry said. “I’m worried, honestly. When that kid really gets going on the mischief front, she can be just as bad as Fred and George. Problem is, she won’t put her name on it like they do, so we’ll be left looking for suspects forever.”

“One hundred percent dangerous.” Ron mused. “But hey, most people will just assume it was the twins, so no harm done.”

“Not after they graduate.” Harry pointed out. “They’ll be gone after this year, and the triplets’ll be at Hogwarts. Hell on earth. Start preparing.”

“We can use the Chamber of Secrets as a bomb shelter.” Ron said.

“That’s… actually an interesting idea.” Harry said. “Do you think there’s anything down there? Besides rotting snake and bones and stuff.”

“Well, you did a pretty good job of stabbing You-Know-Who’s creepy ghost diary last time, so… hopefully nothing?”

“Hopefully.” Harry said, nodding. “With my luck, we’ll find him creeping around down there, though.”

“Should we ask to borrow the Sword of Gryffindor? Just in case.” Ron asked.

“I’m not so sure he’d die if I stabbed him, but it’s worth a shot.” Harry shrugged.

“Isn’t that what you stabbed the snake with, the first time?”

“Yes, but he didn’t stab Voldemort with it.” Hermione said. “Crucial detail.”

“What if I stab him with the sword, and then go back with the fang? Two plans?” Harry suggested.

“Two stabs are better than one.” Ron decided, nodding.

“Do you ever just forget you’re magic sometimes?” Harry asked Hermione.

“Stabbing’s much more effective than anything we know, at this point.” Hermione said. “Why use magic when we have a better solution?”

“He’ll never see it coming.” Ron said sagely.

“Is there a book on that?” Harry asked. “I feel like stabbing’s a little more complicated than just shoving the knife in there, you know?”  
  
“There’s probably a book.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I can check the library. Given the current situation, I don’t think checking out a book on murder would look too good on your record.”

“Darn.” Harry said, sighing. “The one time I was going to check out a book, too.”

“We’ll take intent into account.” Ron snorted.

“You better.” Harry said. “Cause I’m not going to do it again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ron assured him. “I mean, after the diary in second year? We all know you have book-related trauma."

“I’ll die if I set foot in a library. Just watch.” Harry said, as dramatically as he could manage.

“Boys…” Hermione said exasperatedly. “Come _on_.”

“Ah, but you’re stuck with us.” Ron threw his arm around her shoulder with a smile.

“I am.” She said. “It’s unfortunate. But I’ll have more free time, once you’re both on the Quidditch team.”

“You’ll have to come to games now, if we’re both playing.” Harry said. “And pay attention the whole time!”

“Maybe you can help Lee out with the commentary.” Ron teased.

“I’m going to the library and I’m bringing Harry with me.” Hermione said, shaking her head. “If he combusts, then I’ll be rid of Quidditch forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for being patient with us this past week! With this, we hope to get back to our regularly scheduled updates. -L&S


	7. Finders Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah.” James grimaced. “Weird things happen to us, don’t they?”
> 
> Drew swung the locket a bit, watching as the light caught the emeralds. “Yeah, I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little late! A combination of travel, a busy school week and bad planning took us down, but this week's chapter's around a whopping 3360 words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Not nearly the longest chapter we've had, but definitely solidly above average. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us through another week, and we hope to see you next Friday!
> 
> -S&L

“Shh, shh!” Anne pressed a finger to her lips, angrily shushing her brother. Drew was crouched next to his sister behind an ornate, neatly polished umbrella holder just within the doorway.

The front hall of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was cleaner than it had been in years. After all, Lily and James had entrusted Sirius and Remus with watching Sarah and the triplets for most of the last summer, which had resulted in several torturous weeks spent cleaning out the old Black family home. Already having missed their annual trip to their grandparents’ home for the summer, the four youngest Potter children had been beyond irate when they’d realized they were going to be put to work on top of everything else.

It had, in the end, served some purpose. The Order had taken to using Grimmauld Place, upon Sirius and Remus’ urging, for their meetings. When Sirius had revealed its location, stating that it might as well be of use to someone, he’d reminded Dumbledore that the enchantments on the house were strong, and Dumbledore had added his own as well. Even the most powerful of wizards would have been hard pressed to find a safer house in England.

The only problem was the portrait of Walburga Black just within the front entrance.  
She was quite fond of shrieking when disturbed, and Sirius had decided long ago it was best to cover her with heavy curtains. But even that didn’t deter her, only muffled the irritable, irrational yelling, composed mostly of various slurs elegantly strung together into a parade of vile, discriminatory language.

“You’ll wake the witch if you keep talking.” Anne reprimanded her brother.

“I didn’t say anything.” Drew shot back with a scowl.

“What are you doing?” Matt whispered. His siblings looked up, finding him crouched in the doorway. He glanced nervously towards Walburga’s covered portrait, as though afraid the blood red, velvety curtains would snap back and she would scream at him again. She had taken to shrieking particularly horrendous things at the Potters, whenever she caught them in her line of sight.

“Waiting for Appa to get here, so we can scare him.” Anne whispered back.

Matt scrunched up his nose. “That’s a bad idea.” He said. “You shouldn’t scare Appa.”

“Why not? It’ll be funny.” Drew said.

“This place is scary enough without that. And if Appa screams, Mrs. Black will get mad.” Matt reminded them, though he mostly seemed concerned about hurting their father’s feelings.

“Then I’ll tell her to shut up.” Anne reasoned, crossing her arms. As always, she exuded an air of complete and utter confidence in her own decisions. “She’s just a dusty old painting of a dusty old dead lady. She can’t do any harm.”

“But Kreacher doesn’t like it when she gets mad!” Matt whispered, wringing his hands nervously.

“Kreacher is also dusty and old, and just as mean.” Anne sniffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. While Matt had easily befriended the grouchy house elf, Anne had found herself at odds with him, as she often did with people who didn’t listen to her.

“He’s just lonely.” Matt mumbled, sinking back into the shadow of the doorway. “If you’d just be nice to him…”

“I’ll be nice to him when he’s nice to me!” Anne fired back.

“Fat chance of that.” Drew seemed more exasperated by the exchange than anything else. Matt would likely start crying if Anne kept things up, and he wasn’t jumping at the chance to talk his younger brother down-- that had always been Sarah’s forte, and without her around, it had fallen to him by default. “Don’t worry, Madhu.”

“I’m not worried.” Matt lied tearfully.

“What is Madhu worrying about?” James asked curiously, as he shut the door behind him. In their efforts to plan the prank, the children hadn’t noticed him opening the door at all, and his presence was a surprise to even Matt, who was normally eerily observant.

Anne yelped, whirling around and nearly knocking over the umbrella stand, which Drew grabbed quickly, glancing over at Walburga Black’s portrait before heaving a relieved sigh.

“Ayyo, Appa!” Anne groaned, climbing to her feet.

“She wanted to scare you.” Drew told him seriously.

“And I must have ruined that plan.” James said, cracking a smile. He walked down the hallway to his daughter, hugging her tight. “Sorry. You can scare me tomorrow, okay?”

“You should be sorry.” Anne pouted, wiggling her way out of her father’s arms. “I was waiting for fifteen minutes. Amma said you were late.”

“Ran into Umbridge in the hallway.” James said, grimacing at the thought of his coworker. “Wasn’t pleasant at all.”

“How long is she staying at the school?” Drew asked with a frown. “Charu doesn’t seem to like her very much.”

“As long as she’s allowed.” James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The Ministry’s put her there, so Dumbledore can’t remove her without causing a fuss. It’s horrid.”

“Does she even have a job? Besides insulting teachers and giving detentions.” Anne looked up at her father with a petulant frown.

“Denying real danger is her full time job, Anju.” James said, rolling his eyes. “And they pay her to do it. I’d take that over teaching. Hell, I’d do it for free.”

“Sounds easy.” Anne said.

“Sounds like the opposite of what Madhu does.” Drew corrected her.

“Well, our Madhu was never cut out for politics.” Anne sighed dramatically, turning to find that Matt had already fled the hallway.

“From personal experience, politics is the worst.” James shuddered. “No one do that.”

“I’m gonna be a quidditch player.” Drew assured his father. “So no worries about that, here.”

“If anyone goes into politics, it’ll be Charu.” Anne said thoughtfully.

“She’s not allowed.” James said. “Grounds for a firing.”

“Well, what else will she do with her life?” Anne asked.

“Charu is in Ravenclaw.” Drew reminded her, finalled getting to his feet. He glanced towards the covered portrait before moving to wander further into the house. “She’s smart. She’ll figure something out.”

“Absolutely.” James nodded. “Speaking of figuring things out, how’s Aunt Wall Burger doing?”

“She shouted at Adi earlier.” Anne told him. “Something about home invasion, or maybe invading her country. I was shouting back at her, so I didn’t catch all of it.”

“It’s almost as if she’s forgotten her aunt married my uncle because she wanted to.” James chuckled. “Ah, well, she’s better dead than alive. At least this way we can close the curtains and be rid of her.”

“Did you meet her when she was alive?” Anne asked curiously. “Uncle Sirius won’t talk about her.”

“Too many times.” James sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t ask him too much about her, alright? That goes for both of you.”

“Yes, Appa.” The two chorused, before Drew added in a, “we can’t ask because of the same reasons he ran away, right?”

“You’re not supposed to know that.” James said, confused. “Who told you that?”

“Kreacher told Madhu, and Madhu told us.” Drew said sagely. “Kreacher told Madhu a lot of stuff, actually.”

“Kreacher?” James asked incredulously. “Really?”

“Madhu makes friends with everyone, Appa. You know that.” Drew snorted. “He’d probably make friends with Voldemort, if he could.”

James let out a laugh. “No one’s been friends with him since… wow. Let him at it. Kreacher needs some quality conversation.”

“Kreacher had a friend before Madhu?” Anne looked both curious and revolted. “Who’d be friends with someone like that?”

“Slip of the tongue.” James said, looking away. “Right. Anyone discover anything? You’ve been here all day, so you’re bound to have happened upon something evil, magic, or both.”

“Amma and Uncle Remus want us to help get rid of the doxies in the other room.” Drew whined. “We cleaned all summer, and now we have to do more?”

“Darkness sticks.” James said, surveying the room thoughtfully. “It’s hard to get rid of.”

“You know what else is hard to get rid of?” Anne said seriously. “Being a nerd. It’s a terminal diagnosis. Your prospects aren’t looking good.” And with that, she turned and walked out, stomping comically loudly down the hallway.

Drew stared after his sister, leaning back to make sure she had passed all the way through the adjoining room before turning back to his father.

“Look what I found!” He grinned wide at James, making the gap in his teeth more obvious, shoving his hand into his pocket before presenting his latest find to his father. Dangling from his fist by a thick gold chain was a locket. It was pretty, in an antique sort of way, made of tarnished gold, with delicate emeralds inlaid on it in the shape of a curled S. “I’m gonna give it to Anju for our birthday.”

“Adi, your birthday’s months away. It’s only October now.” James said, ruffling his son’s hair. “Isn’t it a little early to be finding presents? Plus, there’s no S in any of our names. Well, Charu’s, yes, but neither of yours.”

“We’re turning eleven!” He protested. “It has to be good or she’ll get mad. I figure the S can stand for something else? You’re better with letters than I am.”

“It’s cause I have tons more experience with them than you. Only thing that’s coming to mind is S for Stupid, but I doubt she’d like that much. Leave it up to her-- Anju does incredible things, when you leave the choice in her hands.” James nodded, satisfied with his answer, before realizing something. “God, you’ll all be off to school next September too? What are Amma and I going to do?”

“Probably stare at each other because you don’t remember how to interact without kids around.” Drew shrugged. “Or maybe you’ll just go on old people dates.”

“Old people dates sound wonderful.” James said, smiling. “You have a point, though, and that’s a very nice necklace. I’d hide it well though, just in case. You know how Anju loves to go snooping for her presents.”

“Remember when she found that toy hippogriff you got me and she was convinced it was for her?” Drew made a face. “You’d think she’d have been happy with the clothes and stuff Amma got her.”

“Yeah.” James grimaced. “Weird things happen to us, don’t they?”

Drew swung the locket a bit, watching as the light caught the emeralds. “Yeah, I guess so.” He finally agreed, shoving the necklace back into the pocket of his jeans.

* * *

“Hey, Ron, good news!” Harry called out. “Angelina’s shown us the final results, and you’ve made the team!”

Ron looked up from his half done homework, blinking owlishly at his best friend. “What, really? You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Harry held up his right hand, like he was swearing to it in court. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“That time when we were kids and you swore up and down you saw a vampire under my bed.” Ron said, momentarily distracted. “I slept in my parent’s room for a week.”

“That doesn’t count.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I totally did see one. It just disappeared when you went looking.”

“Yeah, right, and Percy is secretly an aspiring singer.” Ron rolled his eyes. “But I really made the team?”

“Really.” Harry said. “Honest to God, you did. Now that we’ve got a good Keeper again, we’ll be practicing constantly.”

“That’s- That’s brilliant!” Ron was, for once, at a loss for words. He grinned up at Harry before tossing his papers to the side, getting up. “We need to celebrate.”

“We do!” Harry said, slapping Ron’s shoulder. “This is definitely cause for celebration. Come on, let’s tell Hermione! She’ll be happy for you, I bet.”

“Less happy when I tell her I’m skipping my homework for the night.” Ron grins, turning to look for their friend. “I’ll just do it before classes tomorrow.”

“Sounds safe, honestly.” Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t want to tell Hermione anything if I was skipping homework. Although I should get on it, I mean, I’ve got my biweekly date with everyone’s favorite toad soon.”

“Geez, still? What does she even want from you?” Ron frowned, his good mood turned quickly to concern. “You always come out of those detentions looking like Nearly Headless Nick decided to show you his vocal cords.”

“Don’t remind me.” Harry shuddered, trying to squash the uneasy feeling clogging his chest. It had nothing to do with Nearly Headless Nick’s vocal cords, which were always more disgusting than anyone thought they were. “They’re all…. Yuck.”

“That was not an answer.” Ron snorted.

“All I’m doing is writing lines, mate.” Harry said, as casually as he could manage. His stomach roiled, and he felt intensely nauseous all of a sudden-- if just being asked that question evoked such a strong reaction, what would answering it truthfully do? “Not too bad, in the big picture.”

Ron frowned at him, blue eyes searching Harry’s face as though he’d find the answer written there. He didn’t know to look at Harry’s hand instead. “I guess spending an hour with the toad would make me queasy too, right?” He finally said.

“Yeah.” Harry said, grimacing. “For sure. I’d rather you not find out, though. That’s safer.”

“Safer?” Ron’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the shaggy fringe of his hair. “Doing lines doesn’t really sound dangerous, mate.”

“I mean, spending time with her isn’t safe.” Harry scoffed, shaking his head. Good save. “Doing lines is super safe.”

“Right… Are you sure you’re okay? Cause we can do something tomorrow, if you want.” Ron scratched at the back of his neck.

“Tomorrow’s free, I think. Other than practice.” Harry said, before breaking into a grin. “But we’ll be doing that together, now!”

Ron grinned in response, his expression morphing into a peculiar mixture of excited and nervous. “Yeah, I guess we will! The twins are going to give me hell for this.”

“They can’t do anything too bad.” Harry pointed out. “They’ll get their bats taken away. It makes them awfully mopey.”

“Well, what’s the worth of a man if he can’t hit people with a bat?” A smile tugged at the side of Ron’s mouth.

“Well”, Harry began, grin widening, “we could totally ask Batman.”

* * *

 

“We haven’t learned anything since the school year started.” Harry grumbled through gritted teeth as he stormed out of the Defense classroom. “This is just… This is just a waste. Rubbish. Garbage. I’m just throwing away my life in there, and I need to learn all I can before--” He stopped short, feeling as if voicing the reality aloud would make it far too real. Hermione and Ron, walking on either side of him, thankfully understood what he had meant to say. “Before, uh, you know what happens.” He said, scanning the hallways for Umbridge. His mouth went dry, and he only relaxed when he saw no flashes of pink in the crowds of students. Good. He was safe.

“I’m with you.” Ron grumbled, jerking his bag over his shoulder in a way that threatened to snap the frayed strap. He paid it no mind as he stalked down the hall beside his friends. “Your dad is a better teacher than this. It’s rubbish! She’s interfering with our education!”

“You’ve never cared about that before this.” Hermione pointed out. “Why are you suddenly upset?”

“That was before--!” Ron cut himself off, glancing around even as he dropped his voice to a hiss. “That was before You-Know-Who came back. Defense Against the Dark Arts is the only class that was giving us an edge against him.”

“And now that edge is gone.” Harry said, sounding as cheerful as he could, while trying desperately not to think about the fact that Voldemort, being some forty odd years older than his father, likely wouldn’t be defeated by a fifth year level magical education. He’d been fooled for long enough for Harry to escape with fourth year level spells, but he couldn’t expect that to work a second time. That would just be irresponsible. “Yay.”

“We’re fucked.” Ron said blandly.

“Language, Ron.” Hermione said, though the admonishment carried much less weight than usual. Judging by the look on her face, Hermione felt much the same way. His father would’ve called it a pot face, which meant a lot more in Tamil than it did in English, where it just sounded strange. Language, Harry decided, was ridiculously hard, but much easier to think about than his increasingly bleak looking future.

“I’m serious. I’m gonna start planning my funeral. It’ll be great.” Ron said, throwing his hands into the air. “What else can we do, if we aren’t learning anything useful? They keep saying we’re all gonna be fine, but the truth is he could come waltzing in here and kill everyone, and we couldn’t do a bloody thing about it.”

“I mean, that’s likely his next plan.” Harry said. “You’ve been right before, so I’m not gonna doubt you on this again.”

“He’s always right when he’s joking.” Hermione mused. “It’s slightly concerning.”

“How do you think I aced divination?” Ron grumbled.

“Make jokes forever, Ron.” Harry said solemnly, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “But you can never make the biggest joke of all.”

Ron glanced towards Hermione, looking slightly alarmed. “What’s that, then?”

“My life.” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’m the joke.”

“That’s a little harsh, Harry.” Hermione said, frowning slightly.

“Just let it happen, Hermione.” Harry said. “Let it happen.”

“If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry.” Ron gently patted her shoulder.

“That means nothing.” Hermione said. “Sometimes we’re neither laughing or crying.”

“That’s when we’re suffering.” Harry said gently. “That’s even better.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m always suffering.” Ron jabbed his elbow into Harry’s side.

‘Don’t break my ribs, I need those!” Harry whined. “What’ll you do without a half-decent Seeker, anyway?”

“That’s why we have Ginny.” Ron shrugged. “She’s loads better than you, anyways.”

“Excuse me?” Harry said, shocked. Ginny Weasley? Better than him? At what?

“I’m not bad-mouthing my sister’s quidditch skills, even if you’re my best mate.” Ron told him seriously. “She will find me, and she will kill me.”

“Good! I’ll find a better friend!” Harry said. “I’ve already got one, in fact. Isn’t that right, Hermione?”

“If I were objective, and I’m not--” Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

“Why did I ever put my faith in either of you?” He groaned.

“Because you love us.” Ron shrugged. “Plus, Hermione is probably our best chance of beating You-Know-Who.”

“Good, she can have him.” Harry said. “I don’t want him, but he’s still after me. We’ll have a cool plan where you take him from the side and I’ll distract him by dying or something.”

“I’ve got a better plan.” Hermione said, looking quite thoughtful before nodding sharply. “Defense gave you the edge, these past few years, like Ron said. And you need that edge to face him again, because he is going to come for you again. You can’t expect… not with how things have changed, we can’t expect safety anymore. Not for you, not for any of us. And you can’t fight him alone.” Before Harry could protest, Hermione put a hand up to silence him. “We won’t let you. But we need to know how to fight him, and, well, there’s no better teacher than you, right? You’ve faced him three times before.”

Harry thought for a second. This could be incredibly useful-- he’d be able to brush up what he knew, at least, and there were Defense books in the library and in his father’s office that he could find. And it would be the three of them studying, like usual-- and that had always worked out in his favor in the past. Maybe this could be a good idea. Maybe this could succeed.

“You’re wrong though.” He said, surprising Hermione. “There’s two better teachers than me, and they’ve walked away from a fight with him alive four times. I’ll do my best, though.”

“Don’t worry.” Ron said. “We’ll grade you on effort.”

“That’s a relief.” Harry said, trying his best to smile. He was doomed. “I’m great at effort.”


	8. DA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve fought him three times.” Harry said carefully, as if it had only occurred to him now. His parents had only faced Voldemort for the third time at the age of nineteen, and here he was, at fifteen, with three fights under his belt already. Living life a little too fast, his father would’ve said, a concerned expression on his face. “And I want to make the fourth the last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the DA arc! We're hitting the ground running, as All Star would say, and we're excited to open up this new can of worms! Next week will cover the first meeting (and a few other things), so get pumped! 
> 
> We're excited to share all of these things with you-- a lot of planning has gone into this book, and we're excited to develop some of the ideas that we've hit upon, since the beginning of this series!
> 
> -S&L

House politics, as far as Harry was concerned, were a useless load of rubbish.

He loved Gryffindor House just as much as the next Gryffindor did-- it had been a home away from home for him, more often than not, and his years on the Quidditch team had certainly fostered that feeling. But that didn’t mean that he had to hate any of the other houses all of the time-- he didn’t mind Ravenclaws, as long as they weren’t too snotty, like his sister, and he apparently had a humongous bias toward Hufflepuff, which he was quick to deny.

When it came to Slytherin, however, things were a little complicated, and this complication was definitely a reason for him to be whispering to a boy in the next bathroom stall, the side of his face pressed against the cold metal.

“So. Theo.” Harry said nervously. His cheek felt like it’d been frozen, and he was desperately hoping that it wasn’t stuck. Explaining his reasoning would be awfully tough, then, and he had enough things that his parents weren’t going to let him live down-- adding one more to the list was simply unreasonable. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” A voice said back, quieter and deeper than Harry remembered it. The last time he’d really paid attention to Theodore Nott, they’d been third years in their Defense class-- the boy had an impeccable talent for melting into the shadows, and finding him when he didn’t want to be found was nearly impossible. Harry himself had been trying to get a hold of him for days, and had found him only when they’d tried to force their way through the bathroom door at the same time, each too absorbed in their thoughts to notice another person heading in the same direction. “You?”

“Could be better.” Harry whispered back. Anyone could walk in the bathroom, and the more easily they could pass it off as talking to themselves while taking a piss, the better. “Listen. Hogsmeade weekend’s coming up.”

“Yes.” Theo replied evenly. “What about it?”

“Meet me at the Hog’s Head, around noon.” Harry said, making sure to enunciate clearly. It wouldn’t do, to have Theo show up at the wrong place. “Look, I don’t really know if you believe me, but Nev says you can be trusted, so I’m gonna trust you, alright?”

“Neville trusts too easily.” Theo replied, and Harry chuckled, shaking his head. A soft smile spread across his face, and he was suddenly quite thankful for the metal between himself and Theo. It wouldn’t have taken a Slytherin to realize that Harry’s expression was a wonderful piece of blackmail, and Harry didn’t want to take his chances with Theo, who, despite being best of the bunch, was still a snake at the end of the day.

“Yeah. He does. It’s sweet, though.”

“The Hog’s Head, at twelve.” Theo said, and Harry was pleased to find that he actually sounded like he was considering it. Having any Slytherin at all on their side would boost numbers, and possibly get kids who were on the edge onto his side, where they’d be safer. Or he could at least try to keep them safer-- somehow he had a feeling that those on Voldemort’s side weren’t treated much more kindly than the people they killed. “ And what will I find there?”

“A meeting.” Harry said. “One you’ll want to attend. Show up, and you won’t be disappointed.”

He heard the door of the next stall open and close, and heavy footsteps slowly made their way toward the bathroom door.

Harry rubbed his hands together. Perfect. That had gone a lot better than he’d thought it would.

* * *

“Alright, when we talked about this, I didn’t actually think we were going through with it.” Ron admitted over his mug of butterbeer. “Not that I don’t think you can do it, Harry. You totally can. Probably.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ron.” Harry said, trying not to sound too nervous. “I’m glad I have one and a half friends believing in me.”

“Make that one.” Hermione cut in. It was not immediately obvious, from the tone of her voice, whether she was joking or not, and Harry stopped walking abruptly, turning toward her to scrutinize her face. “I was joking.” She clarified, noticing the confusion on his face.

“Our Hermione is probably the only reason we’re actually thinking about this.” Ron pointed out, leaning forward on the table. It was large for just the three of them, but they were expecting several more students to show up.

“To be fair, we didn’t think much.” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “We mostly just did.”

“Incredible.” Ron said dryly. “Hermione Granger, not thinking.”

“I spent most of my time on this.” Hermione said, pulling a roll of parchment out of her bag and carefully unfurling it. “It’s come to my attention that we don’t have a name.”

“Defense Against the Dark Farts.” Harry said, looking as serious as he could. “Cause they’re all old, and we’re fighting them.”

“Absolutely not.” Hermione frowned. “No one will take you seriously.”

“Look around, Hermione.” Harry said. “You two are about the only people that do, at this point.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” A quiet voice said, and Harry turned around, spotting a familiar figure near the door, pulling at the too short sleeves of his threadbare sweater. “Theo!” He exclaimed excitedly, standing up before jogging over to the other boy and sticking out his hand. Theo shook it before looking nervously toward Ron and Hermione. “Don’t worry about them. It’s all fine. Take a seat, or all the good ones’ll be gone.”

“I’ve got competition.” Theo said, with a smirk, and Harry thumped him on the shoulder before Theo walked over to the mess of chairs, inspecting each one carefully.

Harry made his way back to Ron and Hermione, sliding back into his seat. “There’s one.”

“Hey.” Ron greeted, eyes narrowed slightly. “Aren’t you that Slytherin bloke?”

“That would be me, yes.” Theo replied calmly, as though used to dealing with people like Ron. “Will that be a problem?”

“Theodore.” Hermione greeted warmly, and Theo broke into an easy, albeit shaky, smile. “It’s nice to see you.”

 

“It’s nice to see you as well, Hermione.” Theo replied. “How is your research coming?”

“Much better than I’d anticipated, thank you.” She said. “The lead we picked out last Thursday has proven quite promising.”

“I’m glad.” Theo said, sounding quite excited. “Do let me know how it goes.”

“Of course.” Hermione said. “You’ve been a lot of help.”

“I feel like I should have met you a lot sooner, if you’re friends with both of mine.” Ron let out a dramatic sigh. “Ron Weasley.”

“Theodore Nott.” Theo said, scrambling up from his seat and extending his hand toward Ron. “Nice to meet you.”

Ron looked slightly taken aback, but cautiously accepted his hand. “Nice to… meet you too.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ron.” Theo rushed back to his seat, eyes turning to the door. “Is it…. Is it just us, then?”

“I--” Just as Harry began, hoping to come up with some explanation worth giving, the doors swung open and in came a swarm of familiar faces, lead by one that Harry couldn’t be more grateful to see. “Neville!”

And behind Neville came Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, the twins, and people he knew from classes or bumping into them in the hallways or from the Quidditch pitch. Surprisingly, among their number, he found Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, both of whom looked slightly uncomfortable. The group filled out the remaining seats, everyone watching Harry eagerly, as if expecting a speech.

And that was when the full weight of this decision hit him.

He could be putting all of these people in danger. If Umbridge found out… he didn’t even want to entertain the thought. But these people were all putting their trust in him, in what he could teach them and how he could help them, and he owed them that for believing his story. He owed them his protection, for their loyalty, whatever that was worth.

“Should we order more butterbeer?” Ron asked, looking around at the attentive faces turned in Harry’s direction. “I don’t think Aberforth wants us all hanging out without ordering anything…”

“Yeah, uh, sure, if you think so.” Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Right, so, most of you must be here because you believe what I said, although I guess a couple of you might not still. Here’s a timeline for those people-- the day we left school, last year, I was kidnapped. Taken off the train, and brought to a graveyard.” Harry rubbed at his wrists. He could almost feel the bonds keeping him tied to the stone, could almost feel the cold rock against his back. “I watched him come back with my own eyes, and I fought him too.”

“Where’s the proof?” Seamus spoke up indignantly. “And how are we supposed to believe you fought Voldemort? You only know as much magic as the rest of us!”

“What would Harry get out of making this up?” Ron snapped. “Have you ever known him to lie just for the hell of it?”

“And besides”, Hermione cut in, “he’s always been ahead of most of us, with regard to magic.”

“Hermione, that’s not--” Harry began, but she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

“No, she’s right.” Ron said, his expression serious. “You have the most practical use of your magic out of anyone we know. You know what to use and when to use it.”

“That’s not true, I mean...” Harry said, fiddling with his fingers. How could Ron say that when Hermione was sitting right there? Out of all of them, if Harry had to put his money on one person having practiced magic the most, it would be her. “I’ve done some stuff, but…”

“He’s just trying to avoid the attention.” Neville spoke up, and suddenly, all eyes in the room were on him, Harry’s included. “He did fight Voldemort in June, and he’s got the scars to prove it.” Neville’s eyes met Harry’s briefly, and he remembered their conversation in his bedroom, only two months ago. It felt like it had been so much longer-- making time for each other had been hard, between detentions and the sudden uptick in workload, and it felt more like he hadn’t seen Neville in years. And yet, Neville was still taking his side. “He can do a lot more than he lets on.”

“Didn’t you conjure a Patronus third year?” Dean asked curiously, shifting forward in his seat. Harry felt, all of a sudden, that people were paying attention now, even if it was just to have a rumor confirmed. “A real one?”

Harry took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I did. It’s a stag, like my dad’s.”

“A corporeal Patronus? That’s really advanced magic! Even some Hogwarts graduates can’t do that!” Dean said, nudging Seamus, who was desperately trying to look unimpressed, with his elbow. Seamus seemed to be the one that needed the convincing-- Dean seemed to be on board already. “Wow, Harry! That’s incredible!”

“Not really, I mean, I just kind of… did it.” Harry shrugged lamely.

“Which is even more impressive!” Ron insisted. “He didn’t have to think about it, or try. He just did it. Harry is the most qualified person to teach us, now that his dad can’t.”

“Which is why, uh, if you’re all interested, I’d like to try.” Harry said, cutting off Ron. This part, he could handle. “We’re not learning anything, under the Ministry’s curriculum, and there’s a war coming. There’s no way there isn’t. And when it hits, people need to be prepared. Most of our parents have fought a war before. They know what to expect, what to look out for, and they’ll be ready. We haven’t. We won’t be, if we don’t start working early.”

“Being prepared is the only way most of us have a chance of getting out of this alive.” Hermione added, and Harry nodded. “And Harry’s the best chance we’ve got.”

“I wouldn’t say--” He began, but Hermione stopped him right in his tracks.

“You are.” Hermione said, with an air of finality to her words. “You’ve fought him and escaped three times. That’s only one behind your parents and the Longbottoms, and they’re at the top of the pyramid, right now.”

“I’ve fought him three times.” Harry said carefully, as if it had only occurred to him now. His parents had only faced Voldemort for the third time at the age of nineteen, and here he was, at fifteen, with three fights under his belt already. Living life a little too fast, his father would’ve said, a concerned expression on his face. “And I want to make the fourth the last.”

A slow round of applause spread throughout the room, and Harry looked into the huddle of seats to see Theo Nott looking quite impressed. Good. Even just one Slytherin on their side was better than none-- writing them all off because Malfoy was a dick was too much of a generalization. A few seats over, Neville was clapping excitedly, a bright smile on his face. Harry felt like his heart was growing two sizes in his chest, ducking his head in embarrassment as he shoved his hands roughly into the pockets of his trousers.

“If you’d like to sign up for the group, we’ve got a list here.” Hermione said, turning the parchment around to face the rows of chairs, placing a quill down on the table next to it. “Put your names down, and we’ll get the meeting time out to everybody as soon as possible.”

“Actually, the first meeting’s time has been fixed.” Harry spoke up, and Hermione looked to him in surprise. “Right after the Halloween feast, meet us in the second floor girls’ bathroom. Be careful about how you get there. We can’t make anyone suspicious.”

A thin, pale hand shot up in the back, and Harry pointed to it. “Yes, Theo?”

“Could we bring a friend?”

“Absolutely.” Harry said. “As long as they’re sincere about wanting to learn, bring them along.”

The group filed up to the table, scribbling down names next to Hermione’s carefully spaced numbers, until Dean Thomas spoke up, looking confused.

“Why does it just say D.A. at the top?” He asked. “Does that stand for anything?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Harry said decisively, and Dean seemed to take that as a valid explanation. Good.

No one had to know they had never actually thought of a name.

* * *

“Do you ever get the feeling that your sibling is up to something?” Sarah said, instead of saying hello, as she sat down beside Kyung. The corridor they’d chosen had a few empty benches at the edges, and it was much warmer inside than outside. No one ever knew when the library would be packed, so they’d found a reliably quiet spot quite early on in their first month at Hogwarts. Now, it was a regular haunt. “It’s something dangerous, I’m sure. He never does anything normally.”

“Shin-ji is always up to something.” Kyung said, without looking up from his book. “The trick is making sure I do not get blamed for whatever it is. I think she will be a Slytherin. What is your brother doing?”

“I don’t know.” Sarah frowned, digging a book out of her bag. The corners of the cover stuck out at odd angles, and the margins of every page were full of notes, but she’d always loved reading through her father’s old books. More than one classmate had asked her if the letters that looped and swirled across the page in neat, orderly lines were a real language at all, and not just the scribbles of a child. She’d just barely managed to hide her annoyance, which was a skill she’d had to exercise much more often than she thought she would have to since coming to Hogwarts. “That’s what bothers me. He’s being extraordinarily careful about covering his tracks.”

“That does not sound like him.” Her friend finally looked up, both of his eyebrows raised. “Have you tried asking him?”

“Why would I ask him?” Sarah looked confused. “Then he’d know I was looking into it, and cover it up more.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell you? That seems easier.” Kyung frowned.

“My brother seems to think that hiding his intentions makes his plans harder to detect.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He’s not nearly as stealthy as he thinks he is.”

“Bin surega yoranhada.” Kyung shrugged. “The literal translation is stranger, but… If you talk a lot, you probably do not know what you are doing.”

“We have something similar. Viraikudam thalumbaathu, kuraikudam koothaadum.” Sarah smiled. “Wise people know when to keep their mouth shut. It’s a universal truth, really.”

“One we cannot avoid.” Kyung agreed amiably. “Perhaps it is good he is keeping his mouth shut?”

“Judging by the precedent he’s set, likely not.” Sarah’s expression darkened. “And he’s got help. He used to be much more manageable back when it was just him around. We could even handle him and Ron joining forces. But now, with Hermione in the mix, it’s impossible to catch them.”

“Hermione is… the smart girl? With the hair?” Kyung’s vocabulary seemed to fail him, so he raised his hands and attempted to form the shape of Hermione’s bushy hair around his own head.

“Yeah, that’s her.” Sarah nodded. “She’s very smart. I don’t know why she made friends with my brother. He’s very…”

“Not smart?” Kyung suggested, not unkindly. “Energetic?”

“Impulsive.” Sarah said, debating her own word choice. “That’ll do. I know what to say in Tamil, but in English, it’s a little tougher.”

“I know the feeling.” Kyung huffed out a breath. “There are certain terms in Korean that do not translate at all. But… impulsive seems accurate.”

“His methods are flawed.” Sarah nodded. “Deeply flawed.”

“His intentions are good. Probably.” Kyung tapped his book against his knee. “But perhaps he should talk to you about methods.”

“He should.” Sarah said, glad that she’d found someone who agreed with her. “And yet he doesn’t. Does Shin-ji listen to you?”

“Sometimes.” Kyung said hesitantly. “But she is a very confident girl. She knows what she’s doing, and does it well.”

“Harry is confident as well.” Sarah nodded. “It’s just that we all lack confidence in him.”

Kyung laughed, shaking his head. His black hair flopped into his face. “I suppose that’s a well-founded lack of confidence.”

“Have you heard his track record?” Sarah asked curiously. “Remarkable in the absolute worst way possible.”

“Does he do things wrong, often?” Kyung asked, amusement fading into confusion. He had been in Korea last summer, and had missed the original media storm surrounding Harry and his family. Sarah hadn’t been eager to fill him in.

“Very often. At least once yearly.” Sarah said, sighing melodramatically. “His first year, he stole private property from a mass murderer. His second year, he killed a basilisk in the school dungeons. His third year, he… I don’t think he did anything that year, actually. And last year, he fought Voldemort.” She paused for a moment, looking a little downcast. “Well, that’s not counting all the things he did before starting here, which there were a lot of.”

Kyung was silent for a long moment before he reached out, tapping his book against Sarah’s shoulder. “I would like to amend my statement.” He decided. “Your brother is very impulsive.”

“Yes.” Sarah nodded. “He is. Very. Outside sources have only enabled him. He thought he could take on someone that powerful alone. That’s ridiculous.”

“He had good intentions.” Kyung reasoned. “He was trying to help, probably.”

“Good intentions don’t erase consequences.” Sarah said.

“No,” he agreed easily, “but they help soften the blow.”

“I suppose so.” Sarah shrugged. “I’d rather this to him spontaneously turning evil, as unreasonable as that is. That’s more Anju’s speed.” She didn’t realize she’d used the wrong name until after she’d said it, but Kyung didn’t seem phased at all, so she didn’t bother to correct herself. After all, her sister far preferred Anju anyway.

“If it is any comfort, Shin-ji may have been evil her entire life, and is just very good at hiding it.” Kyung said. “Hence, Slytherin.”

“Surprisingly, despite likely being secretly evil as well, I doubt my sister would make it in Slytherin.” Sarah said, after a moment’s thought. “She’ll likely be a Gryffindor. Can you imagine how horrid it would be if they ended up in the same house?”

“The only comfort we would get would be that we are in Ravenclaw, and not Gryffindor.” Kyung agreed.

“It’s a good thing your sister’s going to be a Slytherin.” Sarah said. “Because I don’t know if they’d get along as well as we do.”

“If what you have told me of your sister is true, it would be a terrifyingly efficient friendship.” Kyung said gravely.

“Only death can result from that.” Sarah shook her head. “But if Harry continues on this path, I suppose we’ll have death regardless.”

“Let’s hope he succeeds before our sisters do.” Kyung said. “I think Voldemort would be far less terrifying.”


	9. The Chamber of Secrets, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look. I promise, if I haven’t figured it out myself by the end of the term, I’ll tell somebody. I’ll talk to you, maybe. You know this stuff. How he plays with your head, even when he’s not actually there.” He swallowed hard. He hated thinking about the graveyard, and it happened a lot more than he’d like. “A lot happened this summer, and Umbridge is just kind of… messing with it more. You get what I mean?”
> 
> “Yeah.” Ginny held his gaze, something indescribable filling her eyes. “I… can’t pretend to know what happened to you or how you’re feeling. But I’m the closest thing you’re going to get, right now. And I’m not gonna take your ‘I’m alright’ rubbish, which… I think might be something you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're super excited to get your thoughts on this chapter! 
> 
> We've brought the Dream Team back together, as you can see from the summary, for the first time since Haunted Toilet, and they chose this chapter to have a much anticipated and needed talk. We really hope you enjoy this-- it's a little different from what we were planning initially, but it flowed well and added a ton to the story itself! 
> 
> See you guys next week, on the 29th, for another great chapter!
> 
> -S&L

“Are you sure you can do this?” Neville asked, and Harry nodded, despite feeling more nervous than he ever had before. Asking Neville to the ball last year was nothing compared to this, although that may have been a direct result of the fact that asking Neville to the ball was less of a life or death situation and more of a life or permanent embarrassment situation. This was a life and death situation, and the closer it came, the more nervous he felt. “I mean, it’s Halloween already, and that’s tough enough for you, but you’ve also picked the Chamber and--”

“Neville”, Harry said, as kindly as he could manage, cupping Neville’s face in his hands. Neville’s face flushed bright red, and his eyes went wide. Harry just barely suppressed a smile. “You’re freaking me out. Stop it.”

“Sorry.” Neville said, looking rather ashamed, and it hit Harry that this was the most physical contact they’d had since school began. He’d have to work on that. “I was just worrying. You know how it is.”

“I’m always making you worry.” Harry said, letting go of Neville’s face. He felt oddly awkward, now, but maybe that was just the nerves he’d been harboring about the meeting tonight. Or maybe, he thought, eyeing the disappointed look on Neville’s face, it was something else. “I should stop that.”

“You should.” Neville said, averting his eyes. “But will you?”

“Mm, don’t hold your breath.” Harry said, and Neville laughed, shaking his head.

“I’ll make sure not to.”

* * *

 

“I’m glad everybody got here alright.” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, surveying the group in front of him. Someone had thankfully thought to close the bathroom door behind them, leaving everyone, the girls included, looking distinctly awkward.

“Well, y’know. The trip down the hall ain’t exactly perilous.” Seamus was eyeing the sinks nervously. He had been with Ron and Harry second year, and had most likely guessed where the group would be heading next.

“The bathroom’s been abandoned for at least two years now.” Hermione said, in an attempt to sound comforting. “Except for Moaning Myrtle.” She immediately looked over at the stalls, as if Myrtle would come sweeping out of some nasty drain to admonish her, and sighed in relief when nothing happened. Perhaps she was too deep in her thoughts, or, more likely, too deep in the U bend to have heard Hermione.

“For good reason”, called out Colin Creevey, who was still just as small and mousy looking as he had been his first year. Harry remembered quite suddenly that he had been petrified, along with Hermione and several other students. He’d been petrified, Harry thought, feeling rather like he wanted to vomit, as a first year. How had Colin come back to Hogwarts, back to where that terrible thing had happened, after all of that?

“For good reason.” Harry repeated, nodding. “But now, it’s come time to open it again. You see, this bathroom is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. I stumbled upon it second year, with loads of help from Ron, Hermione, and Moaning Myrtle. Seamus came along, when we went down that last time, and he had a grand old time. Ask him about it some other time.”

“Please don’t.” Seamus interjected.

“Regardless, that’s the safest place I think we can hide. I don’t know anywhere safer on campus, and I can place a solid bet that Umbridge doesn’t know Parseltongue, so I can get you down there safely for meetings. If not, it just looks like some students picked an odd place to hang out with their friends, because I’m sure all of us will take care not to discuss pressing or important matters until we’re somewhere that we couldn’t be overheard..” Harry said. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Seamus shifted his weight from foot to foot as everyone’s gazes swung towards him. “Last time we got out because that phoenix flew us back up the pipe… How’re we supposed to get out now?”

“I assume most of you got the message to bring brooms? I hadn’t thought about that yet when we announced the meeting spot at first, so I’m sorry if the message didn’t get out quick enough for some people. Make sure to bring a broom next time, though, if you’ve got one.” Harry said. His own was leaning against a bathroom stall, and he noted in relief that, thanks to the majority of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team having joined them, there were a good few scattered through the group before him. “Perfect. That’ll be our way out, Seamus. Alternatively, we’ve found some rope, so if you want to climb back up, be my guest.”

“I’ll pass.” He mumbled.

“Great. Uh, so I’ll open the tunnel, and you can slide down it, if you’d like. If you’d rather not, all I ask is that you not tell anyone about the meeting place or purpose. Now it’s a bit dirty down there, so I’d suggest casting some protective charms on clothing to make sure the grime doesn’t stick.” Harry said. “Ron, Seamus and I learned that one the hard way.”

“And Ginny”, said Ginny’s irritated voice. There was some shuffling as she shoved her way to the front, arms crossed over her chest. “Have you gone and forgotten I was there too, Potter?”

“I know my experience there well. I know Ron’s, and I know Seamus’. I didn’t want to speak for you.” Harry replied coolly. He’d thought about it since he’d realized, soon after the meeting, what implications the meeting place could have for Ginny.

She had been down there for longer than he had, and god knows what she’d faced. He certainly didn’t. All he’d done for her was show up near the end, wave his hands around a couple times, and stab a diary in a manner he thought was effective enough to get a job done. He hadn’t done anything on the order of what she’d done-- Ginny had been incredibly brave, to struggle against Tom for so long. Harry hadn’t even lasted a solid half hour, in the graveyard, and that was at fourteen.

At eleven, Ginny had struggled against him for months and won.

What would anyone gain from him telling her story?

Ginny didn’t speak right away, instead choosing to brush past him and head towards the sinks. She stood in front of them, brown eyes narrowed as she stared at the tarnished porcelain. The rest of the DA had fallen silent, staring at her back expectantly.

“You’re right.” She finally said, causing the twins to glance at each other. “This is the safest place. You going to open this sucker yourself, or should I get a hammer?”

“I’ll get it.” Harry said, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile. That was the Ginny he knew well. “Hammer might be useful, though. Don’t know what kind of rats we’ll find down there.”

“Or turtles.” Dean said, and Harry tried his best not to laugh.

“Or snakes.” Ginny intoned, not without humor.

“Ugh.” Ron shuddered beside Harry. “If you keep talking like that I might go back to the dorms.”

“The snake’s dead, Ginny.” Harry said brightly. “I killed it! It’s likely rotting now.” His enthusiasm melted away at the thought of rotting reptile. “Well. Shit. This meeting might be a cleaning meeting, then. Everybody get your Vanishing Spells ready.”

“We should save it.” Luna said, voice as light as air. “Basilisks are very rare, you know, and can be useful for all sorts of things. Even dead ones.”

He strode over to the sink, squinting at the handle he knew had the snake carved into it. If he looked at it just so-- there, it looked like it was moving, in that light. He knew what he had to do, could feel the word ready to go at the back of his mouth, but the sheer number of people around him scared him. What if they cast him out again, upon hearing this? What if they blamed him? What if it got even worse?

The scar on the back of his hand, covered by the sleeve of his sweater, throbbed angrily. Did that mean his thoughts were lies? Or did it mean he should get just get on with it? Harry took a deep breath, in an effort to calm himself, and let the word free.

“Open.” He said, and without pause, the sink in front of him began to sink into the floor. There were gasps from the group behind him, but Harry only watched as the two adjacent sinks slid further apart, revealing the dirty tube that disappeared down into the dark.

“Never thought I’d have to see that again.” Ron sighed into the ensuing silence. Ginny strode forward with grim determination written across her face, her pale fingers reaching out to grip the edge of the tube. Perhaps she was dwelling on half forgotten memories, or maybe she was simply ready to get it over with.

“See you down there.” She called over her shoulder, and with a flash of red hair she had disappeared into the dark.

“One by one”, Harry said, motioning to the tube. “I’ll go down next, show you how it’s done a little slower.” He climbed into the tube, arms and legs folded up awkwardly. He’d been much smaller, the last time he’d gone down the tunnel, and his memories of how big it had seemed were certainly inaccurate. He let go of the side, and shot off down the tunnel, like it were some great, big, dirty slide, and landed on a pile of rat bones at the bottom. “Disgusting.”

Ginny was standing nearby, staring in the direction of the chamber. She seemed, in that moment, entirely out of place, but also as though she had always existed in the tunnel. “I don’t remember much of it, before you woke me up.” She said, not bothering to look back at Harry.

“I didn’t know what you remembered.” Harry said, wringing his hands. “I didn’t think to ask. That’s pretty horrid of me. I mean, if you’d needed to talk, I was the closest to it. I should’ve done more. For you.”

“You got me out, didn’t you?” Ginny turned, finally, and the look in her eyes made her seem far older than her fourteen years. “I wouldn’t ask you for anything more. Don’t go trying to shoulder my burden, Harry.”

Before he could respond, another body came hurtling out of the pipe. Luna sat up, giggling wildly from behind her blonde curls. “Oh, that was fun.”

“You’ll want to move before the next one comes down.” Ginny advised, moving to help Luna to her feet.

“Only you’d think that was fun.” Harry allowed himself a laugh, despite still feeling a little uneasy about Ginny’s response. He’d wanted to make her feel a little better, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done more harm than good. Maybe that was just paranoia kicking in a little too hard. “Someone’s got to put a positive spin on it, though, and I’m glad we’ve got you.”

Luna reached out to pat Harry’s arm as she floated past, gaze sweeping up to the dripping ceiling. “Anyone can find the bright side, if only they know where to look. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“That is exactly why we’re here.” Harry said. “Finding the bright side. Except we are the bright side, sort of. Right?”

“Yes,” Luna agreed easily, “you’re very bright.”

The next to arrive were the twins, who were hooting and hollering all the way. Lee Jordan followed closely behind, stumbling and falling onto the pair of Weasleys.

“I’ll go ahead. There’s some rocks that need to be cleared out.” Harry shifted his wand in his hand, trying to get a good grip on it. His hands were ridiculously sweaty. Of all the things his father could have passed on, he’d decided on this one? Absolutely ridiculous. “Everybody else stay put, gather the group. I’ll yell back when the path’s clear.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ginny was already striding past him, footsteps echoing loudly against the tunnel’s slimy stone walls. “Try and keep up, Potter!”

“Alright then.” Harry said awkwardly. “I’ll get on that.” He jogged after Ginny, wondering how he always managed to end up running behind her. At this point, it was getting a little tiring.

She didn’t slow for him as they trooped down the tunnel, past the shriveled remains of the basilisk’s shed skin. The echoes of the DA arriving one by one filtered down to them, but it was in a muffled, reserved sort of way. Harry could almost imagine they were alone in the dark, just as they had been two years ago.

The collapsed wall of rocks loomed before them quite suddenly, and the hole Seamus and Ron had cleared for them was much smaller than he remembered it being. There was no way any of them could fit through it now, except perhaps Colin, who had yet to hit any sort of growth spurt.

“Think the cave will collapse if I blast it down?” Ginny asked mildly.

“Probably not.” Harry shrugged. “Ron and Seamus took out some of it, last time, and it didn’t do much. We’ll take our chances, if it does.”

“Awesome.” Ginny raised her wand, eyes hard. Determination sparked off of her like electricity from an exposed wire, filling the air around them with a hazy anticipation. “Expulso!”

A blast of light flashed from the tip of her wand, sending the wall of rocks tumbling, flying, and otherwise exploding away. There was a shriek of surprise somewhere behind them, but Ginny seemed solely focused on the mostly-clear pathway before them.

“Wow.” Harry couldn’t think of anything else to say. That was incredible. “Nice.”

“Can’t let you have all the fun.” Ginny smiled as she tucked her wand behind her ear. “Should we go get the others?”

“True. Gotta share with somebody, eventually.” Harry grinned, looking ahead down the tunnel. “Should check out the chamber itself, first. Don’t know if there’s still rotten snake in there, and if there is… well, that wouldn’t be too great. We can’t really explode that.”

“How long do you think it’d take to decompose?” Ginny asked. “I think a skeleton might be sort of badass, but it’d really stink up the place if it hasn’t gotten that far.”

“I dunno. I don’t usually surround myself with rotting meat.” Harry shrugged.

“And here I was worried that wasn’t B.O.” Ginny teased.

“You know, it used to be an essential part of my morning routine, but then I really thought about it.” Harry said. “It’s not nice to the dead animal.”

Ginny stepped over the rubble, calling an amused, “well, we can’t have that,” over her shoulder as she went.

“Being nice to animals is an essential part of not being mean.” Harry called out, rushing to keep up. “You wouldn’t know much about that, would you?”

“Keep that up and I’ll bat bogey hex the shit out of you.” Ginny warned him. They rounded a bend in the tunnel, and were accosted by a wave of musty air. The earthy scent made it quite obvious that they were deep underground.

A few moments later, they came upon the second entrance, which had apparently never been shut after their adventure.

Harry jogged ahead of Ginny into the chamber itself, and felt unbelievably relieved at the sight of the mostly clean skeleton looming before him. The ribs of the snake curved outward from the spine as if creating a strange tunnel, the entrance to which was what had once been the snake’s throat and was now just a gaping hole at the back of its skull. Although it certainly didn’t look as obscenely gigantic as Harry remembered it, it still was rather large. Whatever skin and muscle was left upon the skeleton was dried out and rather disgusting looking, but the skull looked smooth and polished, like it belonged in a museum rather than upon a mossy, damp stone floor.

“It’s mostly alright.” He said, scanning the length of the snake. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but it was better to get a read on it first. Would the venom still be in the fangs? He’d have to warn everyone to stay away from it. They didn’t have Fawkes on hand like he had this time-- any brushes with death in the Chamber would be fatal. “Not too disgusting, I don’t think. Stinks a little, but there’s a charm to fix that, isn’t there?”

“Why haven’t you used it on yourself, then?” Ginny stepped up next to him, her gaze skating down the basilisk’s spine. “You killed this thing? When you were twelve? Geez. I can’t believe I slept through that.”

“I can’t believe you did either, honestly. I figured you were dead mostly because all that yelling and stabbing didn’t do much to wake you.” Harry cast a few cleaning charms in the general direction of the snake’s skeleton, smiling as some of the musty smell dissipated. “Brilliant. I knew I learned those for a reason.” He put a little more power behind a second round, and was rewarded by a much less stinky chamber. “Alright. Time to go back and grab everybody, I think. How late do you think it is already? We’ve got to be back before curfew. No telling what Umbridge’ll do if she finds us out of bed, especially me.” His posture must have stiffened oddly at his mention of Umbridge’s name, as he caught a flash of concern across Ginny’s features.

“You alright?” Ginny put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Seems like Umbridge is taking a lot out of you, Harry.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. I’m alright.” Harry said, shrugging off her hand. “Thinking’s too dangerous, for a guy like me. Might lose the couple brain cells I’ve got left after all that dying, right?”

“Why won’t you talk to me? Really talk to me, not this bullshit?” Ginny demanded. “And if not me, why not Ron or Hermione? Can’t you see how worried they are about you?”

“Look.” Harry said, after a tense pause. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. If anyone would understand his reasoning, it would be Ginny. But he wasn’t sure whether she would anymore, given what she’d just said. “It’s… things are complicated, right now. And I’d like to make sense of it myself before I say something to anyone else, you know?”

“What if you can’t make sense of it?” Ginny asked, her expression serious. “What if it just keeps building and building and getting worse and you keep convincing yourself you can handle it?”

“It hasn’t happened before, so I guess we’ll find out.” Harry shrugged. “That’s a big if, though.”

“Why do you think I never told anyone about the diary?” Ginny said. “I get it, I do. I know why you don’t want to tell anyone, why you keep telling yourself it’s fine, and that you’re handling it. But that doesn’t mean it’s what you should be doing.”

“I know you get it. It’s why I’m telling you all this.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. Ginny had managed quite well, in a situation that was arguably worse than the one he was in now, at the age of eleven. If she could do it then, he could do it now. It was no use telling her that, though-- she’d likely get angrier, and that was no good. “Look. I promise, if I haven’t figured it out myself by the end of the term, I’ll tell somebody. I’ll talk to you, maybe. You know this stuff. How he plays with your head, even when he’s not actually there.” He swallowed hard. He hated thinking about the graveyard, and it happened a lot more than he’d like. “A lot happened this summer, and Umbridge is just kind of… messing with it more. You get what I mean?”

“Yeah.” Ginny held his gaze, something indescribable filling her eyes. “I… can’t pretend to know what happened to you or how you’re feeling. But I’m the closest thing you’re going to get, right now. And I’m not gonna take your ‘I’m alright’ rubbish, which… I think might be something you need.” She suddenly reached out, punching his shoulder. “So get your act together before I do it for you.”

“What was that for?” Harry whined, clutching his shoulder. “Jackass.” He shot her a glare, though both of them knew it was only half meant.

“It was an attempt to murder your martyr complex.” Ginny deadpanned. “Now come on, we should go get the others. We probably only have time to show them the chamber before we leave, though.”

“I’ll get a proper lesson together for next time, then.” Harry said. “Was meaning to ask my dad for the lesson plans he made during the summer, before the Ministry order came through.”

“Don’t you think he’ll figure out why you asked?” Ginny turned to gaze into the depths of the chamber, which was, unfortunately, still filled with creepy snake statues, a thin film of water still coating the stones and soaking into their shoes. “I thought you wanted to keep him from knowing, so he couldn’t get in trouble.”

“That definitely complicates things.” Harry sighed. “Well, there’s no way around it. I guess I’ll have to actually read.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder, her serious expression melting into something mischievous. “That’s what you’ve got Hermione for.”

“True.” Harry grinned. “Maybe I won’t have to read after all.”

Ginny’s laugh echoed off the vast ceiling, magnified and repeated back to them a hundred times over. “I’m sure she’ll be happy playing teacher, but you should probably help, too.” She turned to head back into the tunnel.

“It’s my club, you know? I should handle it.” Harry said.

“Probably.” Ginny agreed.

“Alright. Snake’s good. Water’s not that bad. Should we call the rest in?” He asked.

“Like I suggested we do five minutes ago? Yeah, why not.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.” Harry said sheepishly. Ginny had said it. He’d just lost hold on that detail, between all the other things they’d been discussing. “I got a little lost. We had a big talk.”

“Big talks happen in big rooms.” Ginny said, sounding very similar to Luna. “But yeah, let’s go.”

“Got to get started eventually.” Harry cracked his knuckles before heading back toward the exit of the chamber. He looked back over his shoulder. “Hey. You coming?”

Ginny turned away from the chamber, eyes catching on Harry. “Yeah.” She called back, and a smile spread across his face. Maybe this wouldn’t be too scary. “I’m coming.”


	10. Always Respect Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no need to talk about him any more.” Dolores said, with a wave of her hand. “I want to know about you. Who is Sarah Potter? What does she like? Why is she here? I’m sure no one asks you many questions about yourself, here. I’ve seen the other children being quite rude, in fact, and I’m sure that’s quite tiring. First year is hard enough without someone making it tougher.”
> 
> “They have been.” Sarah allowed, carefully watching her for a sign of anger. She seemed to have relaxed slightly, though, and Dolores smiled. That was the way to this child’s heart, then-- asking after her rather than her brother. This would be endlessly useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a happy chapter. We're focusing very closely on Sarah and Kyung (who we're affectionately calling Salt Squad) and Umbridge this chapter, and the material contained within this has the potential to be very disturbing. If you believe that the implications of Blood Quill Torture on a First Year would be too much for you to read, please skip this chapter. Hopefully, we'll see you guys next week, on the sixth of May, with a happier chapter.
> 
> We're sorry.
> 
> -S&L

The main reason Dolores Umbridge had gotten as high up in the Ministry as she had was because of her well honed talent for noticing when things were even just slightly out of place.

Ever since she was a child, the smallest differences in patterns would catch her eye easily, and she could easily pick those that didn’t present themselves to her on a silver platter out of their surroundings. She hadn’t appreciated it at first, hadn’t used it to its full advantage, but once she’d realized the power it gave her, she’d changed her tune. And now, here she was, more powerful and accomplished than all those who dared slight her, with a new target in hand.

And this pesky little target, if quickly found and put down, would earn her job security like nothing else had before, and perhaps even set her up for a triumphant run at the title of Minister, in a few years’ time. If she subdued Harry Potter, and put an end to all this madness, her name would be respected forever. No one would ever again dare disrespect Dolores Jane Umbridge.

One of the cats on her wall, a fluffy gray one with dinner plate eyes and pointed ears, meowed softly as a quiet knock sounded from the door. Dolores smiled. The student she’d called in was here, and on time, too. Most of those little rascals couldn’t be counted on to properly keep an appointment. She abhorred the thought of being late to anything, and it bothered her that the majority of these little beasts hadn’t learned that lesson yet. It made dealing with them insufferable.

“Come in, child.” She called out, and smiled when a tall first year with wavy black hair pulled into a low ponytail walked in, shutting the door behind her. Sarah Potter looked rather nervous, as if wondering why Dolores would have any need of her presence, and Dolores gestured magnanimously to the chair in front of her desk. “Please, don’t be nervous. I just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”

“About what?” Sarah asked, sitting down awkwardly in the offered chair. She looked rather restless, Dolores noted, fingers playing with the hem of her robe as she looked around the room. The relentless, repetitive motion reminded her of Sarah’s father, who often did the same thing during staff meetings. The girl looked so much like him. Quite a shame-- judging by what Dolores had seen of the work this child had produced, even within her first few months at Hogwarts, she had so much potential, and it would all be for nothing.

“About your brother.” Dolores said, and Sarah’s shoulders stiffened as she sat up just a little straighter. Anyone else would’ve missed the slight change in her posture, but Dolores Umbridge had always been brilliant at picking out details. The girl was afraid. “I’m not going to do anything to him, don’t worry. I just want to know how he’s doing.”

“He’s… alright. Why are you asking me when you could ask him? I don’t talk to him much.” Sarah said, confused. She looked up from her knees, brown eyes scrutinizing Dolores’ expressive face. Dolores wanted to laugh. Sarah thought she could read the intentions of an expert at concealing them? What an ambitious child. Perhaps she was best suited for Slytherin, as Dolores had been. She seemed suspicious now, looking around the room like she was afraid some dastardly trap was lying in wait.

This child would need a more delicate approach than her brother, then. Dolores could do delicate.

“Oh, that’s okay.” She said jovially. “Older brothers sound like a lot of trouble, especially ones like him. I don’t have siblings myself, but I imagine living in his shadow is hard, isn’t it?” She searched the little girl’s face for any sign of a reaction, and her smile widened when she caught a flash of insecurity in her eyes. Perfect. “Making a name for yourself must be awfully tough, since all the teachers must think of him first when they see you.” She did her best to sound caring and sweet, something that came to her worryingly naturally.

“He’s-- He’s not that bad.” Sarah said, a defensive edge to her voice. She was protective of her brother, Dolores noted. That would make this job a little more complicated than it had seemed-- she’d been hoping for a healthy rivalry, one that would result in an easy in and out meeting with no more of her time wasted, but perhaps working her over until she gave up the information would be half the fun. “He has his problems, sure, but everybody does.”

“There’s no need to talk about him any more.” Dolores said, with a wave of her hand. “I want to know about you. Who is Sarah Potter? What does she like? Why is she here? I’m sure no one asks you many questions about yourself, here. I’ve seen the other children being quite rude, in fact, and I’m sure that’s quite tiring. First year is hard enough without someone making it tougher.”

“They have been.” Sarah allowed, carefully watching her for a sign of anger. She seemed to have relaxed slightly, though, and Dolores smiled. That was the way to this child’s heart, then-- asking after her rather than her brother. This would be endlessly useful. “I’m sorry. I know we’re not supposed to talk badly of other students.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. I was a lot like you at eleven.” Dolores said, chuckling. “The other children didn’t like me very much as well. And look at me now. I’m the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and those other children are working miserable, dead end jobs with far too little pay. There are great things in store, for ambitious people like us. All we have to do is make the right choices, and paths will open up.”

“I-- I don’t think we’re that similar.” Sarah said, all of a sudden seeming even more nervous than she had when she entered the room. “I know I’m a little too studious and a little bothersome, but I don’t… I don’t want big things, like that. And I certainly won’t betray my brother to someone that does.” Her voice grew stronger as she kept talking, and the last sentence was like a sucker punch to Dolores’ face. Sarah’s eyes burned bright with anger, like bonfires were burning behind her irises, and she stood up abruptly, smoothing down her robes. “If you’ll excuse me, I have homework to attend to.”

“Miss Potter.” Dolores, who was rapidly losing patience, snapped. Sarah seemed even more emboldened by Dolores’ display of annoyance, a familiar daring smirk tugging the corners of her lips upward. She was James Potter’s daughter, through and through. Uncooperative, too bold for her own good, and disgustingly obsessed with her idea of loyalty. Yes, Dolores would enjoy breaking her. “I did not say this meeting was over.”

Sarah strode toward the door, head held high, ignoring Dolores’ words. Dolores hadn’t been nearly this nasty at eleven, and supposedly, there were three younger Potter siblings set to enter the school next year. If she had her way, none of these horrible Potter children would be at this school. All they did was cause trouble, and she’d thought this one would be different, but it seemed that all of them had been made from the same mold as their impetuous dolt of a father.

“It’ll be a detention if you leave this room, Miss Potter.” Dolores warned, as Sarah’s sweaty hand closed around the cold, metal doorknob.

“Then give it to me.” Sarah said impetuously, turning the knob and pulling the door open. She turned around to look Dolores in the eye, as she stood in the open doorway. “I’m not giving my brother up. I’m not like you.”

“Tonight, after dinner.” Dolores declared, a smile coming easily to her face. She so enjoyed this, and another Potter in her grasp would be useful. Especially a first year-- even the boldest of them had fears strong enough to knock them to their knees, at eleven. “Eight-thirty. I expect you to be on time.”

“Whatever.” Sarah said, with as much bravado as she could manage, and took a left down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Dolores allowed herself a laugh before pouring herself a new cup of tea, dropping in several sugar cubes before taking a sip.

Yes, this would be fun.

* * *

Kyung waved a hand when Sarah entered the Great Hall that evening. He was seated at the end of the long table, several open spaces beside him on the bench. There was an open book propped up before him, leaning against a large bowl of fruit.

Sarah slid into the seat beside him, peering at the book instead of greeting him. “What are you reading?”

“You missed class earlier.” He said in lieu of answering. Sarah Potter missing a class willingly was unheard of, and there was a hint of worry in his otherwise composed expression.

“Umbridge called me into her office.” Sarah said. “I thought I might be able to ask you for notes.”

Kyung, usually adept at hiding emotions, turned pink. “They are not in English.” He mumbled. “I will translate them for you later. What did Umbridge want?”

“Information.” Sarah said, expression darkening. “I refused to give it to her.”

“What sort of information?” Kyung raised an eyebrow.

“Information on my brother.” Sarah said, while serving herself some food. She didn’t feel particularly hungry, but Umbridge would be easier to handle on a full stomach. Most horrible things were.

“Ah.” He nodded slowly, expression smoothing slightly. “I suppose that makes sense. Did she get angry?”

“I’ve got a detention.” Sarah said. “Not optimal, but not the worst outcome.”

Kyung wrinkled his nose. “Good luck.” He finally said. “I would not want to be stuck in a room with her for too long.”

“I wouldn’t either, but I’ll have to be.” Sarah said with a sigh. “I know what she wants, and she thinks she can get it. I’ll let her believe that.”

Kyung nodded, seemingly impressed by her resolve. “It is only detention. It is not as though she can do anything drastic.” He pointed out. “You will be fine.”

“I will be.” She agreed. “The worst possible outcome is getting a second one, after this. And I’ll behave myself, so that’s not likely.”

“Honestly? I am surprised you got the first one at all.” He laughed, ducking his head.

“I’m not.” Sarah shrugged. “It was bound to happen eventually. Detentions are a bit of a family tradition.”

“Started by your brother?” Kyung asked, leaning his chin on an open palm.

“Started by my father.” Sarah glanced up at the teachers’ table, where her father was idly picking at his food, staring up at the changing sky on the ceiling.

“At least he can’t yell at you for it, then.” He said, reaching out to flip the page of his book. “My father would be furious if I got in trouble.”

“That sounds unfortunate.” Sarah winced. “I suppose mine would yell anyway, so I’ll keep this from him for now.”

“They do not alert parents?” Kyung looked up at her again. “Your father is a teacher. How would you avoid him knowing?”

“He rarely pays attention to what’s happening.” Sarah said. “He’ll figure it out eventually, and I’ll have a defense ready by then.”

“I will help you work on one, then.” Kyung offered. “But first, food?”

“Food.” Sarah nodded. “Anything’s easier on a full stomach.”

* * *

Sarah knocked on Umbridge’s office door. There were still a few minutes to eight-thirty-- Sarah was nothing if not punctual. She waited for the invitation to come in before opening the door and walking in as confidently as she could manage, shutting it behind her. She’d chosen her position, and as always, she was going to stick to it as strongly as possible. She wasn’t one for changing her mind, unless absolutely necessary.

“Sit down.” Umbridge said, motioning to the chair, but there was no kindness in the words, like there had been earlier in the day. Umbridge looked rather severe now, like she had other things she’d much rather be doing, and Sarah looked at the empty piece of parchment before her. There was no quill. Was she supposed to write lines without it? Before she asked the question, Umbridge slid a black, sharp looking quill across the table to her. “You’ll be doing lines for me.”

“What should I write?” Sarah asked, picking up the quill. She spun it in her hands, trying to get a feel for the weight of it.

“Always respect authority.” Umbridge said, looking rather smug, and Sarah took a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm enough to avoid fighting back. Fighting her, like Harry undoubtedly had, would only get her in more trouble, and she’d rather keep the count of her detentions at one for as long as possible. “Begin when you’d like. You’ll stay until the message sinks in.”

Sarah pressed the quill to the paper before beginning to write.

* * *

By the time Sarah dragged herself back to the common room, it was nearly empty. Most of the younger students had put themselves to bed, leaving the chairs by the fire to a few upper classmen. Kyung was still awake, as he often was after curfew, sitting between two bookshelves and writing what must have been a letter home. He didn’t notice her at first, but when he did he didn’t seem happy with what he saw.

“Sarah?” He called. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She replied, sitting down next to him. “How was your night?”

“You do not look fine.” He frowned, setting his quill down. “And it is late.”

“Detention.” Sarah shrugged. “It was difficult.”

“Anything with Umbridge is difficult.” He agreed tonelessly. “Perhaps you should turn in early?”

“I’d rather not.” Sarah said, frowning. “Are you planning to sleep soon? If not, I’d like the company.”

“I have never slept well, here.” Kyung admitted with a shrug. “Sharing a room is odd. I was not going to sleep for a few more hours.”

“That’s not safe.” Sarah said. After years of falling asleep to the sound of Drew in the next room over, whispering through the wall far too loudly to Anne, she needed the background noise to sleep at all. Harry, thankfully, was across the hallway-- otherwise, she was sure Drew would’ve tried to talk to him too. “You need eight hours of sleep, and if you sleep in a few hours…”

“I will be fine. I’ve been doing it all year.” He waved a hand dismissively before reaching out to feel her forehead. “Are you sure you are feeling alright?”

She reached up to bat his hand off of her forehead, and the sleeve of her sweater fell down, revealing the back of her hand. “Always respect authority” was carved into it in Sarah’s neat, deliberate handwriting, and the cut, although no longer bleeding, still looked very fresh. The surrounding skin was flushed red, and Sarah yanked her hand back, quickly pulling the sleeve of her sweater down until only her fingers were visible.

“What was that?” He reached for her hand, trying to shove back her sleeve.

“Nothing.” Sarah frowned. “You didn’t see anything.”

“I’m looking right at it.” He told her. He held her hand up, peering down at the words while carefully avoiding touching them. “What happened?”

“Detention.”

“She carved words onto your hand as punishment?” He looked up at her with wide eyes. “I thought that was illegal.”

“It is.” Sarah nodded. “It’s illegal to possess a Blood Quill, let alone use it on anyone, especially a minor.”

“... So you are going to tell someone?” Kyung looked back to her hand, frowning to himself. “Get her fired, if not arrested.”

“I don’t know.” Sarah pulled her hand back, tugging her sleeve back down over it. “I don’t know what to do.” It seemed to pain her to admit that she didn’t have a plan. “Things are bad enough already, for my family, and I don’t want to… This on top of everything else…” She paused for a moment, before her expression turned to one of shock. “He had detention with her too.”

Kyung frowned. “Your brother? … I know of a few other students who have had detention with her.” He paused. “Surely someone would have said something?”

“My brother’s had several.” Sarah said, looking like she was about to throw up. “He’s-- he’s been joking about being stuck in Umbridge’s office more often than not.”

“He hasn’t said anything?” Kyung looked confused and appalled. “No one has said anything?”

“Not that I know of.” Sarah said. “He wouldn’t. He’s… He knows no one will listen to him. To either of us.”

“Someone will.” Kyung insisted. “If the others talk, too. She’s been handing out detentions like candy.”

“Someone will talk. And hopefully soon.” Sarah said. “She’s making me come back until the lesson sinks in.”

Kyung’s pale skin paled further at the implication. “What does that mean?”

“More detention.” Sarah said, smiling weakly. “She doesn’t want to accept that I don’t know what she’s looking for.”

“She will keep pushing until you tell her?” He shook his head, ignoring the hair that fell into his eyes. “We have to tell your father.”

“He’s got enough on his plate.” Sarah said, an air of finality to her words. “I don’t want to upset him needlessly. Someone will tell, like you said. It shouldn’t be much longer.”


	11. Everything Goes Wrong, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He called my mother a slur! In public!” Harry said. “You can’t tell me you’ll let that slide!”
> 
> “And you thought to solve it with muggle dueling, instead of letting Madame Hooch handle it?!” McGonagall demanded. “Do you have any idea what you’ve-?!”
> 
> “If I may, Professor McGonagall”, Umbridge interrupted from the doorway, “I don’t think they have any idea at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for usage of the m slur in this chapter, but otherwise, it's a relatively good one. Everyone's doing somewhat well, and Jily makes big decisions!
> 
> Hope to see you next week! Uploads for the next two weeks might be a little sketchy-- Sriram's finishing up a busy semester, and he might not be able to write very much, but he's going to do his best! Hopefully there'll be two chapters, by the 20th, but there might be one or zero. 
> 
> Thanks for being understanding!
> 
> -S&L

Angelina Johnson was an impeccable leader, that was for sure, but every practice left Harry nostalgic for the good old days under Oliver’s iron fisted rule. Sure, they’d practiced near constantly, and sure, maybe they hadn’t gotten dramatic results at first, but it was odd to be going down to the field without Oliver there, pumping them up the whole way there. Angelina wasn’t one for speeches, at least not as much as Oliver had been, and had outlined positions in the locker room and called it a day.

Harry found himself longing for the long tangents of his former captain, who’d single out each player in turn on the way down to the pitch. This awkward silence was only heightening everyone’s nerves, especially Ron’s. Harry glanced over at Ron, who was tugging his gloves back on for the fifth time, after he had nervously removed and readjusted them. It was Ron’s first game at Hogwarts, and Harry could hardly remember his own, but he hoped he hadn’t looked that bad. If he hadn’t known Ron all his life, he might’ve mistaken him for a ghost.

“Is it always this quiet?” Ron finally mumbled, feet shuffling against the floorboards. “Even the twins are keeping to themselves.” True to his word, Fred and George were huddled together on a bench with their heads together, whispering too quietly for anyone to hear.

“It’s the first game with a new captain.” Harry shrugged. “It’s going to be quiet, I guess. Oliver would’ve had us all yelling by now. We didn’t get to play last year, so this is the first real game without him, you know?”

“Right.” Ron nodded, turning forward again. There was a beat of silence before he turned back, looking rather sick. “How fast do you suppose you could catch the Snitch?”

“I’ve nearly swallowed it before.” Harry said thoughtfully. “If I put my head in the right place, I could probably have the job done pretty quick.”

“Right. You do that, then. Secure the win for us, and all. Angelina will be right proud of you.” He said, smoothing down his quidditch robes. “And, you know, I will be too. Especially if you keep me from blowing the whole game.”

“You won’t blow the whole game, Ron.” Harry patted Ron’s shoulder. “You’re a pretty good Keeper. You’ll be fine.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Ron said, sounding entirely unconvinced. “I’m completely doomed, aren’t I?”

“You’ve confused yourself for Malfoy, Ron.” Harry cracked his knuckles. “He’s the one with something to worry about.”

“Malfoy’s the seeker, Harry.” Ron dropped his head into his hands. “The only one he has to worry about is you.”

“Yeah, but our Chasers are better than Slytherin’s. If he doesn’t catch the Snitch, they’re out of the match entirely.” Harry said. “All you’ve got to do is keep the ball from getting in the hoop. That’s something you can do well.”

“I’ll just block it with my big head.” Ron groaned into his hands.

“Your head’s not that big.” Harry said. “I doubt you could block the whole hoop with it. Could you?”

“We’re about to find out.” The pair looked up to find Angelina Johnson, hands on her hips. “Ready to hit the field?”

“I guess.” Ron said, though he looked as though he might be ill at any moment.

“Readier than I’ve ever been.” Harry said, eager to get going. “It’s weird, thinking we haven’t played for a whole year. I don’t think I could do it again.”

“We’ve practised hard.” Angelina said as the boys got to their feet. “So hopefully we’ve made up for that year without any.”

“Hopefully.” Harry said. “Can’t lose to Slytherin, of all the teams.”

“Not in the first game!” Called Fred.

“Not in any game!” George crowed.

“Never!” Harry agreed. Gryffindor were the defending champions of the Quidditch Cup, and he knew he wasn’t alone in the fact that he’d rather die than hand it over to Slytherin. The Cup was doing just fine in McGonagall’s office, and Harry intended to do everything in his power to keep it there.

There was a loud whoop from the twins before the team spilled from the locker room and onto the field. The Slytherin team was already assembled on the grass, the new captain, Graham Montague, standing in front of Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were flanking him, and Harry belatedly realized they had been appointed as the new beaters. Hopefully they weren’t holding a grudge about second year, still. Harry didn’t think they’d take too well to being told Hermione was behind the cupcakes and not him. They’d probably just beat up both of them, and Ron as well. Why didn’t life ever work out his way?

“Captains, shake hands.” Madame Hooch said, whistle in one hand and broom in the other.

“Break his hand.” Harry whispered at Angelina.

“You know it.” She mumbled, brown eyes narrowing as she approached Montague.

“Hey, George?” Harry asked, elbowing the twin closest to him. “Do you see those buttons?” The entire Slytherin team seemed to have them on-- little silver crown shaped pins were affixed to their dark green robes, and Harry, despite squinting, couldn’t read what was etched upon them. All he could make out were a few wiggly scratches that he assumed were words.

George squinted at the opposing team, blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Eventually, he shrugged. “Maybe they’re pins to show they’re all in the ‘I’m a huge git’ club?” He suggested.

“Or the ‘about to get their arses kicked by Gryffindor’ club.” Fred grinned, leaning to peer around his twin at Harry.

“Somehow, I don’t think they’d come to either of those conclusions themselves.” Harry said, although he was rather hoping Fred was right. “Malfoy looks all superior. That’s always a sign that he’s got something planned.”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” The twins chorused in unison.

“We can all take him. I mean, Hermione can take him alone, so we definitely can, with this many people.” Harry nodded. “Just gotta focus on Ron, though. This is about him. And winning. But mostly him.”

“Aww, widdle Harry taking care of his friend.” George cooed as Fred reached out to pinch Harry’s cheek.

“Hey, let go of me!” Harry whined, slapping Fred’s hand away.

“You’re right, though.” Fred dropped his voice to a whisper, glancing towards Ron. “He’s got a habit of messing up when he’s nervous.”

“He does.” Harry agreed. “He’s been working himself up all week.”

“Never good.” The twins said, but Angelina had returned to the group before they could continue.

“Don’t let Ron see those pins.” She hissed, anger rolling off her in waves. Fred reached out to touch her shoulder, but Madame Hooch had raised her whistle.

“Players, mount your brooms!” She called, and a moment later they were soaring into the air. Harry watched Ron zip off to protect the goals as the balls were released. The Snitch was a golden flash of light, and Harry could barely track it, even with all the experience he’d had. That was one thing he liked about Quidditch-- no matter how long you played, no matter how long you practiced, the game still managed to surprise you. He couldn’t imagine that Muggle sports were this interesting, save for cricket, which was always great.

“And it’s Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is!” Lee Jordan’s gleeful voice echoed through the stadium. “This is her first game as captain, so here’s hoping she brings in the win for Gryffindor!”

There was a hissed reprimand about ‘biased commentary’ from Professor McGonagall before Lee sighed into his microphone. “And good luck to Slytherin captain Montague, too. Yay.” He deadpanned. “Anyways! Johnson ducks Warrington, she’s passed Montague, and- oh, ouch! Been hit by a bludger from Crabbe. Montague catches the Quaffle and is heading back up the pitch. Oh! A fantastic bludger to the head from George Weasley- good job, babe!”

“Mister Jordan!” McGonagall yelled.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Lee’s commentary rang through the stadium as Harry circled the field, mixing with the cheering and booing and singing of the crowd. “And Alicia catches the Quaffle from Katie Bell! Oh the crowd is loving this! What’s that they’re singing?”

Harry listened closer, confused. There were often yells of “Go Gryffindor” or “Slytherin sucks” at games, but he’d never really heard songs before. Those usually took concerted effort, or previous planning. He suddenly remembered Malfoy’s smirk when the teams were lining up. Did he have something to do with this?

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_  
_He cannot block a single ring,_  
_That’s why Slytherins all sing:_  
_Weasley is our king!_

_Weasley was born in a bin,_  
_He always lets the Quaffle in,_  
_Weasley will make sure we win,_  
_Weasley is our king!_

“And Alicia passes back to Angelina!” Lee suddenly shouted, in an obvious attempt to drown out the singing.

Harry’s jaw dropped. How dare they think that was okay? It was Ron’s first game, and anyone who’d ever met him knew he was nervous, though only his close friends and siblings knew how much. It wasn’t right to tease anyone making a big change in their lives-- that was just rude and mean, and Harry wouldn’t stand for it. He was glad Lee wasn’t standing for it either.

Angelina’s attempt at a goal had been blocked by Bletchley, the Slytherin keeper. He passed to Warrington, who sped off towards the opposite side of the pitch, towards Ron. The redhead was the sole figure in front of the rings, and Harry couldn’t help but pause to watch him, even as the singing from the crowd grew louder.

_Weasley is our king,_  
_Weasley is our king,_  
_He always lets the Quaffle in,_  
_Weasley is our king!_

“The first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Ron Weasley, brother to the beaters Fred and George! A promising new talent on the team- come on, Ron!” Lee shouted.

But the Quaffle soared past Ron’s outstretched hands and into the center ring, causing a scream of delight from the Slytherins, who began singing with renewed vigor.

_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_  
_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…!_

Harry grit his teeth. Ron had been right, before the game-- the best way he could end this was to find the Snitch, and find it quickly. He zoomed between other players, searching for the familiar golden blur. Malfoy would pay for this, and the best way to hit him where it hurt would be to win, and as quickly as possible.

“And it’s Warrington again,” bellowed Lee, “Who passes to Pucey, who’s off past Spinnet- come on Angelina, you can take him- okay, turns out you can’t. But nice bludger from my favorite Weasley twin, causing Warrington to drop the Quaffle! Katie Bell- uh, also drops it, so that’s Montague with the Quaffle! Come on Ron, you can block this!”

As Harry passed Malfoy, he heard the Slytherin seeker singing along with the crowd.

_WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING…_

Harry didn’t have to look to know what happened, based off the groan of disappointment from the Gryffindor stand.

He continued circling the pitch, weaving between other players in search of the Snitch. He grew more frantic as time went on and Ron let in two more goals. The score was wavering dangerously in Slytherins favor, and if they made a few more goals it wouldn’t matter whether Harry caught the Snitch or not.

And then, finally, a stroke of luck for Gryffindor. Harry spotted the Snitch hovering near the ground on the Slytherin’s end and dove toward it, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Malfoy was right on his tail. It didn’t matter, though, because Harry was closer, and Malfoy wouldn’t catch the Snitch if it was right in his face, a fact that had been proven time and time again.

As his fingers closed around the Snitch and a great roar of approval rose from the Gryffindors, a bludger struck him in the back and sent Harry tumbling head over heels onto the ground. He found himself staring up at the sky, the wind knocked from his lungs.

There was a thud of someone landing beside him and then Angelina’s face hovering above his. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just knocked the wind out of me.” Harry pushed himself up, slowly getting to his feet. “I’m alright.”

“It was that thug, Crabbe.” Angelina huffed, turning to watch Hooch zip towards him. “He hit it as soon as he’d seen you’d gotten the Snitch. But we won, so the joke’s on him!”

“Saved Weasley’s neck, haven’t you?” sneered a familiar voice. Malfoy landed several feet away, pale with rage.

“Still a sore loser, Malfoy?” Harry countered. There was something about Draco Malfoy that brought out the worst in him. He was glad that they didn’t have to deal with each other often. “I’d imagine you’d be used to it by now.”

“And I’d imagine you must be used to the smell of the bin Weasley was born in- remind you of your mudblood mummy, Potter?” He spat. “You know, we tried fitting Weasley’s mother into the song, but we couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with fat and ugly!”

“Hey!” The twins had just landed, having caught the tail end of Draco’s insults.

“Do not call my mother that!” Harry roared, completely shocked. The only reason he didn’t deck Draco right in the face is because his mother wouldn’t have wanted him to, at least not where he could get in trouble for it. His mother was the single greatest witch he knew, and he thought she was even better than anyone claimed because she didn’t have the advantage of growing up with magic. People like Draco just wanted everything to go their way, all the time. “You know, it’s funny how you go around saying disgusting things about other people’s mothers when yours can barely stand to breathe the same air as you.”

“Perhaps we’ll make a song for you, next!” Malfoy shouted, stepping forward defiantly. “Though we couldn’t manage to fit in useless loser for their father, maybe we’ll find something fitting for yours!”

“Mr. Weasley’s ten times the man your father is, Malfoy!” Harry yelled. “Yours is too busy dealing with all his bratty little son’s problems to do anything else!”

“Fred, let it go! He’s just sore he lost!” Angelina said, grabbing onto Fred’s arm as he attempted to surge forward. Katie grabbed onto the other arm, successfully managing to keep him from slugging Malfoy.

“Don’t you talk about our family like that!” George roared.

“Why shouldn’t I? Everyone knows it’s true!” Draco shot back. “You might as well be mudbloods, growing up in your pigsty. No wonder Potter likes you so much! You must remind him of home!”

“Take that back!” Harry dropped his broom, striding forward toward Draco. He grabbed the boy by the front of his robes, shaking him back and forth. “Take that back!”

Draco wrenched himself away from Harry’s grip, only to be met with a fist to the face. George had obviously decided he was sick of listening to him talk, and no one had thought to restrain him as they had Fred.

Malfoy went down like a sack of bricks, gasping and moaning as he clutched his nose. George swore violently, ignoring Angelina’s shout of, “GEORGE, NO!”

Madame Hooch’s whistle brought an end to the chaos of the gathered crowd, causing George to step back towards his team. “What do you think you’re doing?!” She screamed, eyes landing on Harry and George. “Both of you, to your Head of House’s office! NOW!”

Harry stormed off the field, George at his heels. It wasn’t until they were nearly halfway back up to the castle when something important occurred to Harry. “Wait, where’s Ron?”

“I saw him head off towards the locker room as soon as the game ended.” George hissed, shaking fists clenched at his sides. “He didn’t see the fight. That Malfoy is a bloody prick.”

“I’m glad he didn’t.” Harry said, clenching his fists. “Ron doesn’t need that right now.”

“I should have hit him again.” George seethed. “Who does he think he is, mouthing off about our families like that?”

“A pile of rubbish, that’s who he is.” Harry grumbled. “What do people like him think they are, anyway? God’s gift to us all? Because it’s certainly not God who gave them to us.”

George grunted in response as they entered McGonagall’s office.

A moment later she stormed in, ripping her Gryffindor scarf from her neck. “What were you thinking?!” She shouted, slamming her hands down onto her desk.

“He called my mother a slur! In public!” Harry said. “You can’t tell me you’ll let that slide!”

“And you thought to solve it with muggle dueling, instead of letting Madame Hooch handle it?!” McGonagall demanded. “Do you have any idea what you’ve-?!”

“If I may, Professor McGonagall”, Umbridge interrupted from the doorway, “I don’t think they have any idea at all. In fact, this is exactly what Cornelius was afraid of-- the children have grown angry and combative, and that’s further proof that handing control of discipline over to me was the right decision.”

McGonagall’s expression tightened in anger. “These students are in my house, and I can assure you that I can handle an appropriate punishment for their behavior.” She said in a clipped tone.

“Mr. Potter, as an example, hasn’t seemed to learn anything from the four years you’ve assigned him detentions. And quite a few detentions too.” Umbridge sniffed derisively. “It’s almost as if the lesson hasn’t sunken in properly, isn’t it?” She fixed her strange, beady stare on Harry, who did his best not to shrink back, though every cell in his body felt the need to.

“Do you have something to say, or are you going to continue beating around the bush?” McGonagall drew herself up to her full height, staring down her nose at Umbridge.

“I have a punishment in mind.” She said, turning toward the boys. Harry had never seen such an evil expression on someone’s face, and he’d fought Voldemort thrice in the past four years. “I’ll be confiscating their brooms, and both of these boys and the other Weasley twin will be banned from playing Quidditch for the rest of their school careers. If they cannot control their reckless behavior, then there is no reason for them to be representing their houses or their school. They’re dragging the reputation of an illustrious institution through the mud, and that is simply unacceptable.”

“But-!” There was a desperate tone to George’s words as he struggled for a response. “But Fred wasn’t even part of the fight! He didn’t do anything!”

“He would have joined in if your captain wasn’t holding him back.” Umbridge pointed out. “And intent speaks just as loudly as actions, in cases such as these. I understand that Mr. Potter, especially, has a track record of violent behavior, and that can’t be helped, but--”

“Excuse me?” Harry’s eyes went wide. “Please explain!” A laugh bubbled up in his throat, but he squashed it down before it came out of his mouth. He knew exactly what she meant, exactly why she was implying he was violent. It was the same reason Draco did, the same reason most Ministry employees and Purebloods looked down their noses at the Potters. Over the years, he’d realized that the best way to get them to cut it out was to keep asking them why they thought that until they grew frustrated and gave up. “When have I been violent?”

“Even now, when you’re clearly in the wrong, you play the part of the aggressor.” Umbridge remarked calmly. “Although that’s become something of a habit for you, hasn’t it?”

“I am not lying about him being back!” Harry spat. “I would never! It all seems to come back around to that, doesn’t it? You’re just looking to punish me! Why drag George and Fred into this as well when we all know you’re just after me!”

“Mister Potter!” McGonagall stared at him, her eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion. “That’s enough.”

Harry fell silent, shocked by Professor McGonagall’s betrayal. He should’ve seen it coming-- she’d done the same thing second year, when he was innocent and she’d said he needed to be considered a suspect anyway. He stepped backward unsteadily, eyes trained on the floor. This wasn’t happening again-- it had been bad enough the first time, when he was barely old enough to understand, but this was too much.

“I’m sorry.” Harry muttered, hands clasped tightly in front of him. “That was-- That was a bit much.”

“We must not tell lies, Mr. Potter.” Umbridge said, and Harry didn’t dare look up from the carpet, because he knew he’d snap back if he did. “On that note, you’re both dismissed. Minerva, I’m sure you’ll be relieving the boys of their brooms shortly, won’t you?”

“Excuse me?” McGonagall looked up in surprise. “Those are personal items, not school property. Banning them from the team is more than sufficient, I would think.”

“We have to make sure the full weight of their lesson is learned, Minerva.” Umbridge said.

“Professor McGonagall.” She corrected coldly. “And as I said, I believe the original punishment is sufficient.”

“You may believe it’s sufficient, but I am the one deciding their punishment. There’s an official Educational Decree, if you doubt the my authority. You certainly wouldn’t dare doubt the Minister’s.” Harry could hear her sickly sweet smile in her voice, and it grated at his every nerve.

McGonagall’s expression tightened further, as did the fists that rested atop her desk. “Will that be all?” She asked.

“That is all.” Umbridge declared brightly.

“We’ll-- we’ll be going.” Harry forced out, before walking out the door with his head down as quickly as possible, before Umbridge had any reason to stop him.

* * *

Of all the inanimate objects Harry Potter had lost a fight to in his life, he didn’t expect that he’d lose to a doorknob.

“Um, can you say the riddle again?” He ventured, only to receive an exasperated sigh as a response. “Fine. Alright. I’ll just sit out here, I think.”

Harry sat down heavily on the floor a short distance away from the doorknob, not wanting to block anyone else’s way, and pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his face in them. He didn’t particularly want to see anyone, or be seen by anyone. Fine, there was one person he wanted to see, but she didn’t seem to be accessible at the moment.

He looked up at the sound of whispers, and saw a couple of first years, likely roommates of his sister’s, suddenly stop talking when they saw him looking toward them. They scurried toward the doorknob like his attention was a sign of danger to come, one of them quickly supplying an answer to the riddle that had stumped him for nearly half an hour, before they disappeared through the door.

Great. Now, on top of everything else, eleven year olds were smarter than him. Today was just shaping up to be wonderful.

“You know”, a soft voice said from beside him, “when Amma said to set a good example for me, I don’t think she meant this.” He looked up to see Sarah sitting down beside him, carefully setting down a stack of thick, heavy books beside her. She’d been at the library. Why hadn’t he thought to look there?

“I don’t think what I did qualifies as a good example.” Harry admitted, stretching out his legs, which felt rather stiff. How long had he been sitting like that? His back was sore, and his knees ached like he’d been running for years. “I did fight a classmate.”

“It was stupid.” Sarah agreed, not a hint of doubt on her face. “But it was brave.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiled weakly. “Glad you think so.”

“I…” Sarah began, looking a little hesitant. “Do they really say those things about Amma?” She bit her lip, looking away. “I-- I know you’d mentioned people weren’t all good here, and I know you said it was bad, but I never really thought…”

“You thought it was me just playing it up.” Harry finished her sentence for her, used to his sister’s patterns. He heaved a sigh. “I wish it was just that. You… You don’t need to get involved in it, right? I’m already the problem sibling, as they see it. I’ll pick the fights. You just do your best to stay in the clear.”

“She’s my mother too! You can’t tell me what to do!” Sarah whispered, her anger burning bright in each word. “I’ll pick fights if I want.”

“You will.” Harry agreed, feeling much like he was a deflating balloon. The anger melted out of Sarah’s face, replaced by concern. “You’ll pick fights if you want, but as your big brother, just listen to what I’m saying this one time. Please. Just leave all that to me, and do your best to focus on school and getting ahead. Remember what Appa said, before you started here?”

“I have to be ten times better than them to get the same reward.” Sarah said, averting her eyes. Harry’s heart clenched in his chest. His little sister had long been wise before her years, so much so that he often forgot she was just eleven. But here she was, just eleven and having to face the reality of a million different kinds of discriminating intersecting and colliding in the harshest of ways.

“And the second part?” Harry prompted, knowing his father had modified that lesson since he’d heard it, largely thanks to the events of his second year. It hurt to think about it, but she had to learn quickly. It was the only reason he’d survived here for so long.

“En mela pazhi podaruthukku ellaarume ready.” Sarah said, looking rather disheartened now. Harry should’ve expected his father to make it rhyme. He always claimed that made things stick in your head more. “You just… You just hear these things about Amma and Appa all the time, then?” (Everyone’s always ready to blame me.)

“Not all the time.” Harry said carefully. He didn’t want to give his sister a bad impression of Hogwarts or its students, it being her first year, but it was better for her to be safe than not. And safety required honesty, and his honesty, though painful, would serve a purpose. “Sometimes it’s alright. Nobody’ll say anything for awhile. And then kids like Malfoy come along, the ones who don’t get what it’s like to be us, and they say these things. Then it’s bad for awhile.”

“Should I tell her?” Sarah asked, looking up at Harry. She looked so small in that moment, wide eyed and innocent, that he just wanted to hold her forever and protect her as best as he could. But he knew better than to hug her-- she’d likely break a rib or two of his if he tried. “I’m due to write back tonight. She’ll know something’s wrong if I don’t. I mean-- I mean-- you gave up Quidditch because someone said something about her, and if she finds out, she’ll be so mad. She knows how much it means to you. And you did it for her and for Ron and-- Umbridge, Umbridge on top of everything! How could you risk everything like that?” Her hands shook, and she tried to camouflage it by lacing her fingers together and pulling them apart. “I’m disappointed, sure, but Amma and Appa are going to be even more angry!”

Oh well, Harry thought, before wrapping his arms around her. It was worth the risk.

“Hey.” Harry said, whispering into his sister’s wild mess of wavy hair. “It’s gonna be alright. I promise. I know it’s scary right now, but we’ll figure it out. You and me. We’ll do it, alright?”

“Yeah.” Sarah said shakily. “I just-- they’re horrid here, and you said it was better now.”

“I’m wrong a lot.” Harry said, regret weighing down every word. “You know that better than most.”

“That’s something to write home about.” Sarah quipped, and wrenched herself out of Harry’s arms. “That’s enough for the next few years.”

“I agree.” Harry shook out his arms, wiping his hands on his pants. “Gross.”

“I should put these away.” She got to her feet, before picking up the pile of books beside her. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure, if Umbridge doesn’t give me forty detentions.” Harry managed a weak smile. He missed the worried flash in Sarah’s eyes, thanks to how quickly she turned toward the doorknob. “Listen… Thanks. You helped. I… I feel a lot better.”

“I do too.” She admitted, back still turned to Harry, before marching off toward the doorknob. He waited until the door had swung shut behind her to make his way back down the stairs, smiling tenuously despite the events of the afternoon.

Something about Sarah always seemed to get his head in the right place.

* * *

James Potter was not often angry.

Sure, he held grudges for far too long, and sure, he was a little impatient, but the number of times James Potter had been angry at someone that he himself noticed it could be counted on one hand. He shook the soot off his shoes inside the fireplace in the hopes that he wouldn’t make too much of a mess before shucking them off and storming into the living room. He didn’t spot Lily immediately, which was just as well-- a moment to calm down before he exploded at her would do them both a world of good.

She appeared in the doorway a moment later, wearing an apron that she had most definitely not been cooking in. She was probably using the kitchen to brew potions again. “James.” Her smile melted off her face as she took in the tension in his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“A lot.” He said, dropping his bag by the couch. It hit the floor with a heavy thump, which made him feel oddly satisfied.

“Did they lose the game?” Lily asked, already knowing it was far worse than a simple quidditch match.

“Our son’s been banned from Quidditch for as long as he’s at Hogwarts.” James said, trying to sound positive but failing miserably. “And do you want to know what for?”

“What?” She gaped at him, having finally stepped fully into their living room. “What on earth happened?”

“Defending us.” James said. “He was defending us against that little Malfoy brat, and Umbridge banned him from Quidditch.”

Lily’s expression darkened before she marched towards the fireplace, reaching for the floo powder. “I’ve held my tongue long enough.” She snapped. “I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.”

“I’ll be right there with you.” James nodded. “This is just unacceptable!”

“It’s ridiculous and it’s gone on for too long!” Lily agreed, throwing her stained apron onto the couch. “He shouldn’t be punished for defending his family from a smarmy little git! I’d pound him myself, if he were his father’s age.”

“He used the m slur in public.” James said, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Straight to our son’s face. The captain, Johnson, was yelling about it afterward.”

Lily’s fingernails dug into the side of the floo powder box, her eyes dark. “How’s Hari doing?”

“He disappeared, after McGonagall and Umbridge talked to him.” James said, glaring at the carpet as if it had personally offended him. “Hermione thinks he’s gone off to find Charu. I agree. She-- she was there as well, and I don’t know how much she heard, being in the stands and all, but he wouldn’t leave her alone afterward.”

“... Good.” She muttered in response. “It’s good they have each other, then. Especially Charu. She won’t admit she needs him, unless he goes to her first.”

“They’re just so-- so small! Why is anyone letting this happen?” James snapped. “Malfoy says something disgusting every single year, and no one does anything to stop him, but Hari fights back and suddenly it’s bad and he needs to be punished.” He stomped his foot, looking very much like an overgrown child. “Well, it’s not like we don’t know why, but it’s still irritating to have to face it.”

“And trying to do something about it might just backfire and make it worse.” Lily looked distinctly as though she wanted to smash something. “We should have just homeschooled them, James. This isn’t worth it.”

“This isn’t.” James agreed. “And next year, the little ones will be wanting to go, and…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not worth it. They have enough trouble in their lives.”

“So what do we do?” She asked finally.

“I don’t know.” He said, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know. Christmas break will be soon, and I think we’ll just have to talk to both of them.” James kicked at the floor. “It feels like the first war, all over again. I know that was far more stressful for you than for me, but watching them deal with this…”

“Forget the first war.” Lily finally looked up at her husband, looking far older than her thirty-five years. “This is a second one waiting to happen.”

“He’s back.” James said, looking exhausted. “It’s only a matter of time before it comes to a head, again.”

“... I won’t do it again, James.” Lily sighed, setting the floo powder back on the mantle. “Not with the kids. I won’t stay here.”

“We won’t.” James agreed. “The second the war breaks out, we’re leaving. The kids… I can’t let them grow up with that. Amma and Appa made the right call, last time, I think.”

“You still own their house in India, don’t you?” Lily asked, moving to stand with her husband. “We could go there. It’d be nice for the kids, don’t you think?”

“I do. No one’s been back there for years, but if we cleaned it up some, it’d be a good place. Heavily warded, and I doubt anyone would go there looking for us.” James nodded. “The kids… The kids would like it. I did, when I was their age, so it stands to reason that it’d be the same for them.”

“We could actually follow through on that homeschooling thing.” She sighed. “Or even just send them to muggle school. Teach them magic at home.”

“That sounds good. I can handle Defense and Transfiguration. You’re good at Potions and Charms. I’ll wheedle Frank into teaching them plant stuff. That covers half of it, I’d say.” James said. “What else did we learn? Care of Magical Creatures hasn’t helped me much, so we can drop that. Divination’s useless. Charu probably will badger us both about Arithmancy, so that’s another thing.”

“History of magic? They can just read the textbooks. It’ll be fine.” Lily decided. “That’s the important stuff out of the way, at least.”

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan.” James nodded. “I’ll quit at the end of the year, make a big show of it, and that’ll be our big fuck you to Dumbledore. Excellent.”

“Do I get to fight him again?” Lily laughed.

“Why would I deny you the best thing in your life?” James asked.

“You’re standing right here, aren’t you?”

James seemed almost shocked by Lily’s statement, staring at her in confusion for a solid minute. “What?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

“I can’t believe you said that. You actually said that.” James laughed. “Incredible.”

“We’ve been married for sixteen years.” She pointed out. “The question is why you think I married you if I wasn’t gonna say shit like that.”

“You like me.” James teased. “This is great.”

“I’ve wasted my youth on you.” Lily intoned dryly.

“Sixteen years, all down the drain.” James shook his head. “You can’t get time back out of the toilet. You wouldn’t want to, really. I don’t think anything that’s in a toilet’s worth retrieving.”

“Remember that time Adi flushed your pocket watch down the toilet?” Lily hummed, leaning forward to pillow her head against James’ shoulder.

“I wasn’t going to be on time anyway.” James said fondly. “He just saved me some wasted pocket space. He’s a good boy, Adi.”

“Our good boy,” Lily agreed softly. She was silent for a moment before a sigh escaped her. “We could have died, James. When Hari was a baby.”

“We wouldn’t have had any of this.” James said, holding Lily a little closer. “But we got lucky, and we’re here. And so are they. So I guess the only real plan is to keep getting lucky.”

“No more close calls.” Lily said. “I won’t do that to them.”

“Neither will I.” James agreed. “They’re good kids, and they deserve a good life. And we can give that to them better than anyone else.”

“What are parents for?” She mumbled.

“Mine used to say that they just mostly made sure I didn’t end up dead.” James shrugged. “And then you came along, and they didn’t have to anymore. Convenient switch.”

“My only purpose in life is keeping you from dying.” Lily snorted. “Even if that’s the opposite of my goals before sixth year.”

“You changed your mind, thankfully for me.” James smiled.

“We all know I would have had more success than You-Know-Who.”

“Yeah.” James grinned. “At least you don’t lose to babies.”

“You’re right.” She hummed into his shoulder. “I’d never lose to you.”

“You’ve lost at least once.” James said. “I won your heart eventually.”


	12. The Nightmare Before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Harry?” Dean muttered sleepily. Harry must have woken him up. “You okay?”
> 
> “Dean-- I-- Dumbledore, I’ve got to get to Dumbledore.” Harry said, before tumbling out of his bed, ignoring the fact that he was just in an old, ratty t-shirt he’d stolen from his father and his y-fronts. He stumbled over to the doorway, prying open the door before casting a glance over his shoulder. Ron was still asleep. Good. “I’ve got to get to Dumbledore.”

Harry Potter had never been the sort of person who asked for much. His parents, who had expected him to grow up quite spoiled, thanks to the constant attention of his uncles, were pleasantly surprised by a child who wanted little more than a stick to hit things with and for his siblings not to steal his food. Seeing as he wanted very few things, Harry reasoned that he should get them, should he deserve it. Umbridge, apparently, did not see the same way.

He slouched further in his chair, glaring at the portrait hole. She took away Quidditch! How could she? Was that even allowed?

The portrait swung open and Ron slipped inside. He was still dressed in his quidditch uniform, which was soaked below the knees as though he’d been walking through the snow. His steps slowed slightly when he noticed his friends, but he let out a sigh and approached them. “I’m sorry.” He said. “Should never have tried out. I’m resigning from the team tomorrow.”

“You better not.” Harry sat straight up. “They need you, Ron. Don’t. Please.”

“No you don’t.” He said. “I messed up the whole game. Couldn’t block a single shot.” He sank into one of the chairs near the fire, rubbing at his face. “I never should have thought I could play quidditch.”

“You just need practice.” Harry said. “That was your first game. You can’t expect your first game to be perfect. I bet Oliver’s wasn’t.”

“Please,” Ron groaned, “Oliver Wood came out of the womb holding a broom.”

“He got hit in the head by a Bludger his first game.” Harry said. “That’s way worse than letting a few goals in.”

Ron shook his head, frustration and misery warring on his face as he tried to find the words to answer. “Just… Thanks for catching the snitch when you did.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “No problem.” He slumped back in the chair again, and Hermione shot a warning look at him. She’d spent nearly half an hour lecturing him about how he needed to tell Ron what happened, and now they were very intensely not speaking to each other because he’d told her that if she wanted Ron to know so badly, she might as well tell him herself.

As luck would have it, Harry didn’t need to tell Ron, as Ginny stepped into the common room next. She marched over to the trio, planting herself next to her miserable brother and looked at Harry. “Angelina appointed me the new seeker. I thought you had a right to know.”

Hermione looked to Harry, who shrugged. “Ginny started.” He said. “Ginny can finish it.”

“What?” Ron sat up, looking between the two of them. “Why is Ginny the seeker?”

“After you left the field, there was a bit of a…” Harry leaned back in his chair, grinding his teeth as he tried to phrase it as best as he could. “A commotion.”

“A commotion.” Ron repeated slowly.

“Harry and our idiot brothers fought Malfoy in front of the entire school.” Ginny crossed her arms. “They’ve all been banned from the team for the rest of their lives.”

“What?!”

“At least I can play Quidditch when I die. And outside of Hogwarts.” Harry pointed out. “It’s not all that bad. Plus, the fight was for a great cause.” His expression darkened. “He called my mother the m word in public, then launched an attack on my dad too. Disgusting.”

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times before working out a squeaky, “are you kidding me?”

“He isn’t. I’d have fought him myself, honestly, but probably not where everyone could see.” Ginny huffed out an angry sigh.

“Was it Umbridge?” Ron asked, looking half ready to launch back to his feet. “The twins, too?”

“Yeah. Malfoy was going after all of our parents, and George decked Malfoy in the face. She banned Fred just ‘cause he was there, basically.” Harry scowled.

“I know they’re basically a single unit, but it still isn’t right.” Ginny mumbled.

“Why’d she ban you, if George was the one who punched him?” Ron asked.

“She banned me because I told Malfoy he’s a bigoted arsehole.” Harry said.

“How can such a tiny body contain so much evil?” Ron dropped his face back into his hands.

“How much longer do we have to deal with her? First all those educational decrees, now this? If she has free reign on ‘punishing’ students, who knows what she’ll do.” Ginny turned to glare into the fire.

“Next, she’ll start torturing people.” Harry said dryly, well aware that Umbridge was already torturing students.

“Her being here is torture enough,” came Ron’s muffled voice.

“Lucky us.” Harry griped. “And now I’ll just be split fully between that and school.”

“You’ve still got… you know.” Hermione said, motioning to her defense textbook. Harry brightened up slightly. That was one plus-- he’d have more time to devote to their next meeting, and the ones after. Quidditch was great, sure, but he hadn’t had a broom in any of his fights against Voldemort before, so maybe this was just a blessing in disguise. His father always said that God’s blessings sometimes came in weird shapes. Maybe this was just a weird shape.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “I’ll get to work on that.”

* * *

 

The Chamber of Secrets was not a cheerful place. Between the creepy snake statues and the water-logged corners hidden in the darkness, even laughter echoed back in a way reminiscent of a horror film.

That did nothing to deter the students from decorating.

Cedric Diggory had charmed floating lights to drift through the room, casting warmer shadows and helping to clear the gloom. His girlfriend, Cho Chang, had enlisted Colin, Theo, and Seamus into placing suspiciously large santa hats on the snake statues. Harry was positive that they would have put one on Salazar Slytherin himself, if they had one big enough. That would be next year’s project. Thinking ahead was always smart.

“You know, I never really understood Christmas.” Harry mused aloud. “Isn’t that pretty much just congratulating a baby on being born?”

“Don’t your parents congratulate three babies every Christmas?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, well…” Harry tried to find an appropriate retort, but came up empty. “Yeah. They do.”

“Break’s coming up,” Ron mused, watching as Lavender Brown tried to convince Ginny to tie mistletoe to her broom and fly around. “Did you get them presents?”

“My presence is their present.” Harry said solemnly.

“See, this is why you aren’t their favorite sibling.” Ron reached out to pat Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m Drew’s favorite sibling.” Harry protested. “He loves me.”

“Even if you are correct, that’s still only one out of four.” Hermione pointed out.

“Not exactly making a good argument for yourself.” Ron agreed. “At least most of my siblings can agree that Charlie and Bill are the coolest.”

“Matt likes me too, that’s two.” Harry seemed to be struggling for evidence. “And Anne sometimes likes me? Two and a half?”

“Two and a half is a majority.” Hermione said.

“Well, we do all love Matt the most, though, so there’s that.” Harry said. “He’s definitely the favorite sibling. And we’ve all agreed on one, so that means we’re better than your bunch, Ron.”

“That’s not fair, none of us can account for Percy.” Ron protested. “Ginny, back me up!”

“Percy’s a twat!” Ginny shouted back.

“Remember that one time you said you’d rather lick the bottom of Percy’s foot than date me, Ginny?” Harry called over to her. “I bet you were lying.”

“I stand by my words!” Ginny called back. “Don’t make me come over there with this mistletoe!”

“She’s dating Michael Corner right now.” Ron harrumphed, speaking quietly enough to keep his sister from hearing. “Before that it was some Hufflepuff bloke, and that girl in the year below her, from Gryffindor.”

“Kissing Ginny sounds disgusting.” Harry shuddered. “I don’t know how all those people did it. Gross.”

“It’s grossest for me.” Ron admitted. “‘Cause I have to fight her about dating people, but then they break up and I’ve got to fight them ‘cause they didn’t think my sister was good enough or something.”

“Why do you care so much about who your sister dates?” Hermione frowned. “It’s her relationships, and she doesn’t need you micromanaging them.”

“I’m her brother.” Ron frowned. “It’s basically my job.”

“No it’s not.” Hermione said. “It’s her job and her decisions. Ginny can fight her own battles.”

“I mean, she fights a lot anyway.” Harry added. “She’ll handle it just fine herself.”

“You’ll understand when Sarah and Anne start dating people.” Ron told Harry seriously.

Harry burst into laughter, nearly driven to tears. “No.” He said, in between laughs, “no way. No one would do that to themselves.”

“That’s rude.” Hermione said.

Harry finally caught his breath. “No. It’s not. You don’t live with them.”

“We said the same thing about you, and yet,” Ron gestured to where Neville was standing with a crowd of the younger students, excitedly telling them about the newest addition to Professor Sprout’s most dangerous greenhouse. He’d mentioned to Harry, a week or two back, that she was considering taking him on as an apprentice when they left Hogwarts, but couldn’t say anything officially until they were NEWT students. That was coming sooner than any of them really understood, Harry realized-- at the end of this year, they’d have their OWLs.

That was depressing.

“Yeah, well, Neville’s got the patience of a saint.” Harry grinned, waving at Neville when he looked over at Harry in the middle of his story. “And I’m much easier to deal with than the girls, so that helps.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Ron snorted. “Sides, we said the same thing about Ginny.”

“I’m starting to see a pattern.” Hermione said. “I don’t know if I want to see it.”

“Me too!” Harry exclaimed.

“Just consider yourself lucky you’re an only child.” Ron nudged Hermione with his elbow. If it had been Harry, he might have gotten him in the ribs, but he had grown so much taller that his elbow connected with Hermione’s upper arm instead.

“If I’ve learned anything from the two of you, it’s that they’re too much trouble.” Hermione said, rubbing at her upper arm.

“Amen,” Ron said.

“Pucker up.” Ginny replied from above them. She hovered a few feet up, Lavender’s thin, sickly looking sprig of mistletoe tied to the front of her broom with a garish ribbon.

“Ginny.” Hermione said evenly, though she looked quite angry. “Put that away.”

“I bet it has bugs in it.” Harry mused. “What if there are bugs in it?”

“I’m looking at a bug right now.” Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. “Come on, I bet I can get Neville over here.”

“I don’t know if Ron wants to see that.” Harry winked.

“I’m already dead inside.” Ron reassured him.

“If two of you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna go get Cho and Cedric- God knows it’ll be impossible to stop them once they start.” Ginny warned.

“We’re not gonna do it.” Harry said. “We’ve got basic decency. Right, Neville?”

“Yes.” Neville called back, without even looking at Harry.

“Proof.”

“Lame.” Ginny sighed. “What about you, Ronniekins? You good?”

“I’ll pass.” He said, ears turning pink.

“Ron hasn’t kissed anybody yet.” Harry said. “We don’t want his first one to be in the Chamber. That’d be a horrid story.”

“Harry!” Ron protested as Ginny burst into laughter.

“Don’t let Fred and George hear you say that, he’ll never hear the end of it!” She snickered.  
“Hasn’t kissed anyone.”

“What did you say we shouldn’t tell Fred and George, Ginny?” Harry said, as loudly as he could.

“Guys!” Ron flushed nearly the same color as his hair as the twins turned to look at their little group.

“Oh, nothing too important!” Ginny practically shouted back at Harry.

“I do believe we’re being summoned, George!” Fred said, voice echoing through the chamber.

“We should keep this quiet!” Harry yelled to Ginny. “Ron would hate us if we revealed information about his love life!”

“That does certainly sound like a call for help, Fred!” George agreed, already meandering over. The twins slung their arms across Ron’s shoulders as their brother buried his face in his hands.

“I hate you all. Hermione is my only friend.” He groaned.

“I don’t see why not having kissed anyone at fifteen is embarrassing.” Hermione shrugged. “I haven’t, and I don’t see any shame in it.”

“Maybe you should just kiss each other and get it over with, then.” Ginny nudged the broom closer, smirking down at them.

“I’m disowning myself.” Ron decided. “Find a new brother.”

“Or maybe don’t.” Harry suggested. “I mean, five brothers is already a lot.”

“It’s alright, we barely see Percy these days.” George reasoned.

“Too busy with his fancy new ministry job.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“Good riddance.” Harry snorted.

The twins leaned in, planting two loud kisses on Ron’s cheeks. “Good enough for me.” Ginny shrugged, already moving on to find her next victims.

“Uh, excuse me? I don’t mean to interrupt.” Cho Chang had approached at some point, a santa hat perched on top of her head. Thankfully, it was a normal sized one, unlike the ones now resting on the statues.

“Please do.” Ron told her, shoving his laughing brothers off of him.

“Well, we were wondering if we were going to have a lesson today, or if this was more of a holiday party?” She smiled. “Umbridge banned student gatherings, so no one has really been able to celebrate.”

“Today’s lesson is on subversive action to further an agenda.” Harry said seriously. “The rules say no student gatherings. So we’re gathering, and not learning. That’s the lesson.”

“Brilliant.” Ron agreed. “You could bullshit for a living, you know.”

Cho smiled at him, tucking her hair behind one ear. “That’s great! We should have set up a gift exchange…”

“I would’ve gotten Ron a sense of humor.” Harry said. “I’ll save that for his birthday.”

“Hermione, will you follow me if I decide Harry is a horrible friend?” Ron asked seriously.

“No.” Hermione said bluntly. “He’d die without supervision. I can’t be responsible for that.”

“No, no, Harry has a point.” George hummed.

“Maybe some sort of toffee that makes people funnier?” Fred crossed his arms thoughtfully.

“There we go! Fostering the spirit of innovation.” Harry looked rather pleased with himself. “That should go in the club’s mission statement. Do we have one? I know we were working on one.”

“Cedric and I could help with it.” She offered. “The… Something manifesto? What’s the club’s name, anyways?”

“The acronym is DA, but our brilliant leader forgot to name it.” Ron said.

“I had bigger things on my mind.” Harry said. “Like your problems.”

“What about… The defense association?” Cho suggested thoughtfully.

“That’s good!” Harry said. “The Defense Association. Sounds all official. Thoughts?”

“We may not be able to make it an official club, but that certainly makes it sound like one.” Hermione agreed.

“The Defense Association.” Harry said, surveying the room. The club had separated off into little groups, all eagerly discussing whatever had captured their fancy. They looked like kids, like they were supposed to, rather than the little adults they were being forced to become under Umbridge’s iron fisted rule. This was doing good, wasn’t it?

The whole point of this was to defend himself and his classmates against evil, and maybe a Christmas party wasn’t obviously an act of defiance, but even the smallest of actions mean something.

* * *

 

Harry could hear footsteps echoing down hallway, dimly lit with magical candles floating inside the wall sconces.

The soft, golden light filtered through the dim hallway, surrounding the candles with an almost ethereal glow. A thought pushed its way to the front of his head-- the hallway was empty, save for him. He must be the one running. He looked down, and sure enough, his feet were thumping against the stone floor. He hadn’t noticed he was moving forward until now, but he was, and not too slowly.

Good, he thought. Even in his dreams, he was ahead on his conditioning.

He’d had this dream a couple times, since the graveyard, but had thought nothing of it-- if he told his mother, she’d likely tell him to follow his heart, and he didn’t think much of that. His father would ask him what he was running from, and he didn’t want to deal with that, so this dream was kept close to his chest. It wasn’t particularly bad at all-- just a bit of running, and he’d move on to something else eventually, something more pleasant.

Tonight, what he moved on to was hardly pleasant at all.

Suddenly, he was closer to the floor of the same hallway, and he could hear someone talking, but it wasn’t anything of use. Soft, sibilant mutterings about dinner to come. Must be a particularly short Ministry employee, he thought, and they’re walking right beside me or something. Quite an odd dream. He could hear footsteps further up the hall, and almost wanted to groan. Was this his future? He should’ve known listening to Percy’s career advice over the summer would come back to haunt him.

He moved faster, as he got further down the hallway, and the murmurings about dinner grew louder and louder until-- was that Arthur Weasley? He recognized his friends’ father by his patched robes, oddly angled hat and red face. Why was he down here? This was definitely underground. Mr. Weasley was lounging against the wall, deep asleep, and Harry moved closer toward him, eager to get to the bottom of this.

Why was Mr. Weasley away from home so close to break? Was it Order business? What was Order business anyway? Harry’s own parents had kept the details of Order business very quiet, and they hadn’t agreed to join again, so he had no way of finding out from them, and his uncles had been warned not to tell him what they were doing either. Although, he thought, Mr. Weasley was asleep, and that was hardly the right time to ask questions.

Oh well. It’s not as if Harry was ever too good at timing.

He felt himself rearing up, as he reached Mr. Weasley, and thought that very odd, because wasn’t that something only-- his head shot forward, toward Mr. Weasley, and-- blood, blood everywhere, Mr. Weasley’s blood, oh god--

Harry awoke with a start, breathing hard and eyes wider than dinner plates. He clutched at his chest, which felt tight and uncomfortably warm, trying to catch his breath properly.

“Harry?” Dean muttered sleepily. Harry must have woken him up. “You okay?”

“Dean-- I-- Dumbledore, I’ve got to get to Dumbledore.” Harry said, before tumbling out of his bed, ignoring the fact that he was just in an old, ratty t-shirt he’d stolen from his father and his y-fronts. He stumbled over to the doorway, prying open the door before casting a glance over his shoulder. Ron was still asleep. Good. “I’ve got to get to Dumbledore.”


	13. Lily Evans Saves The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You misunderstand.” Dumbledore replied, tone grave. “Where were you positioned as you watched what happened? Were you perhaps floating above Mr. Weasley in this vision? Standing over him?”
> 
> “Should I have been?” Harry asked, feeling rather scared all of a sudden. “I-- I wasn’t. I was the snake.”
> 
> Dumbledore stared blankly at Harry for another long moment-- a moment in which Arthur could have been bleeding out. Could have been dying. Harry felt as if he was going to vomit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?
> 
> Sorry for the long absence-- things kept piling up, but we're back now. We promise. Summer break is officially in full swing, and that means time to ruin everything good, which is mostly what this chapter's about. Don't forget to leave a comment letting us know what you think, and we'll see you again on June 10th! 
> 
> Warnings for description of panicking/anxiety, discussion of potential parent death
> 
> -S&L

Despite his mother telling him what felt like five billion times to at least try and plan first before acting, Harry Potter had once again found himself in a situation he couldn’t solve. He couldn’t remember the password he’d heard the last time he’d been in Dumbledore’s office, and even then, what was the guarantee that it would be the same one? Keeping the same password for years was a security risk, and certainly not one Dumbledore would take. So here he found himself, at a ridiculous hour in the morning, rattling off names of sweets to a stone gargoyle in the hopes that one of them would work and someone could save Mr. Weasley.

“Sugar quills! Pepper Imps! Chocolate Frogs?” Harry guessed, growing more and more impatient with each unsuccessful try. He shuffled his weight between his feet, trying to keep his breathing even. No, it wouldn’t do to get upset now. How could he do any good when upset? He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, trying to get himself to focus. Fine. Maybe a Muggle sweet might work. He thought of the disgusting lemon shaped terrors Aunt Petunia kept in a dusty glass bowl on the sitting room table at Number Four. His face instantly scrunched up in disgust. That wasn’t candy. That was torture.

“Sherbet lemons.” He said anyway, and the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the winding staircase. Harry took the steps at a run, glad to have finally found an answer, though he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why Dumbledore enjoyed those. Once he’d made his way into the office, he looked around, finding it empty. No wonder Dumbledore wasn’t in his office, it was far too early in the morning to be working. Even his father would be asleep for a couple hours more.

But Dumbledore couldn’t be asleep now, not when a life hung in the balance. He couldn’t be. Mr. Weasley couldn’t die. Ron and Ginny would be devastated, not to mention Mrs. Weasley and their other siblings. Harry couldn’t be the cause of that. Harry’s heart thumped even louder in his chest as it hit him. Mr. Weasley could have died already, thanks to the time Harry took guessing the password. His best friend’s father could have died already, thanks to Harry’s own stupidity.

“Professor!” Harry bellowed, at the top of his lungs. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, trying his level best to stay calm. “Professor Dumbledore! Professor Dumbledore!” He raced around the room, hoping to find the headmaster hidden away somewhere. “Professor!”

“Now, now, Harry. No need to cause a fuss at this hour.” came a slow reassurance from the back of the office. Dumbledore descended a rickety staircase erected beside an odd silver contraption was was spinning and emitting small puffs of smoke. Harry couldn’t tell what its purpose was, and there were far more pressing matters to attend to. Dumbledore was dressed in an embroidered purple and gold dressing gown, which he seemed to have hastily thrown on over a plain nightshirt. “Has something happened?”

“I had-- I had a dream, and Arthur Weasley was bleeding and-- there was a snake!” Harry said, trying to convey the urgency of the situation as quickly as possible. “He’s hurt, Professor, someone has to go help him!”

There was a long stretch of silence in which Dumbledore flicked his hand, lighting a row of candles situated near his desk. He stared meditatively at Harry for a moment. “How did you see this?” He asked, finally.

“Like a dream, only it was real.” Harry said. Why was this important at all? Arthur Weasley was dying, and Dumbledore was fixating on how he’d seen it instead of helping immediately? “Professor, really, someone needs to go look for him. He’s down a corridor with lots of doors and it’s a really long hallway and--”

“You misunderstand.” Dumbledore replied, tone grave. “Where were you positioned as you watched what happened? Were you perhaps floating above Mr. Weasley in this vision? Standing over him?”

“Should I have been?” Harry asked, feeling rather scared all of a sudden. “I-- I wasn’t. I was the snake.”

Dumbledore stared blankly at Harry for another long moment-- a moment in which Arthur could have been bleeding out. Could have been dying. Harry felt as if he was going to vomit.

“I see.” He said into the silence. “Is Arthur seriously injured?”

“He was bleeding everywhere.” Harry said, trying to steady his breathing. His voice shook as he spoke, despite his best efforts. “Someone needs to find him, Professor, before it’s too late. Please.”

“Everard, Dilys!” Dumbledore suddenly said, tone sharp. Two of the portraits on the wall behind him stirred, looking down at the pair. “I trust you were listening. Raise an alarm. Make sure he’s found by the right people.” The former headmasters disappeared from their frames, off to other portraits to secure help for Arthur.

Dumbledore waved his hand and a chair slid out, bumping gently against Harry’s leg. “Sit, sit, I’ll get a message to your parents right away. They’ll want to be here, I assume.” The headmaster paused once more, blue eyes looking at Harry with an indescribable emotion. The moment passed quickly, and he moved further into the office, where Fawkes was watching with curious eyes. He whispered something to the phoenix, who promptly disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Where did Fawkes go?” Harry asked.

“To wake your parents.” He said, sweeping back into the main portion of the office. “I doubt they’ll be anywhere near a fireplace at this time of night.”

Before Harry could respond, one of the headmasters returned, huffing and puffing and shoving dark hair from his face. “What news?” Dumbledore said, turning to him.

“I yelled until someone heard me and came. I told them I heard something from below and, well, they didn’t really believe me, but they went to check anyway.” He sniffed. “Carried back the man-- he looked dreadful, Albus. Covered in blood. I lost sight of him soon, though, in the ruckus.”

The other headmaster, Dilys, returned then, her ringlets settling around her face as she hurried in. “They’re taking him to Saint Mungo’s!” She declared. “They passed under my other portrait.”

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Mr. Weasley was safe, and at Saint Mungo’s, he’d be well taken care of. The Weasleys would be fine. Now that the situation had resolved itself a little, Harry felt even worse. If he’d run a little faster, or found Dumbledore more quickly, wouldn’t everything have been put to rights more quickly? Hadn’t he been found covered in blood? Losing blood was dangerous, and he could’ve lost less of it if Harry had been a little more efficient. He wrung his hands, staring determinedly at the floor.

Dumbledore nodded briefly. “Thank you. Dilys, please wake Minerva and have her fetch the Weasley children.” The former headmistress disappeared again, and Dumbledore fetched an old tea kettle, blackened from years of use. He tapped it with the tip of his wand, muttering a quick “Portus”.

“What’s that?”

“Arthur’s children will be taking their Christmas break a few days early, I’m afraid.” He said as the kettle began to glow blue. “I believe their time will be better spent at their father’s side.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “That sounds good.” He glanced toward the doorway, as if expecting his friends to come thundering in immediately. Logically, he knew it would take time for them to come down from Gryffindor Tower and to the Headmaster’s Office, but he needed to see Ron and Ginny and the twins, to know that they were okay. Would they forgive him for what he’d witnessed? What he’d done?

Harry’s eyes went wide. Was that why Dumbledore had asked where he was? Did seeing it from inside the snake make him responsible? He clenched his sweaty hands into tight fists. No, no, it didn’t. Harry would never hurt Mr. Weasley. But he had, from inside the snake, he’d watched it happen and hadn’t stopped it. His knees felt week, and Harry thought he might collapse. He could hardly draw a breath, feeling like an incredibly heavy weight had settled on his chest.

Dumbledore turned away again, and thundered at another portrait. “PHINEAS.”

The man slowly cracked open one eye, obviously clinging to the pretense of sleep. “Mmmm?”

“I need you to go to Grimmauld Place. Inform Sirius and whoever else is there that the Weasley children and Molly will be arriving shortly.” He said firmly.

Phineas let out a sigh, grumbling under his breath as he labored out the side of his portrait. Harry vaguely remembered seeing him from his time spent cleaning out the old manor.

A few moments later the door burst open, revealing Ron, Ginny and the twins. McGonagall followed them in, closing the entrance behind. They were all still in their night clothes.

“Harry!” Ginny gasped, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

“McGonagall said you saw Dad? That he’s hurt?” Ron rushed forward, bare feet padding against the floor. “Why didn’t you wake me up?!”

“I-- I didn’t want to scare you.” Harry said, stumbling back. The stone floor felt inordinately cold beneath his feet. Was Ron angry? He definitely was. If anyone had done this to Harry’s own father, he’d be furious. Ron had every right to be angry. “I didn’t wanna wake you up in case it wasn’t real.” That was a lie. Harry had known it was real from the beginning, hadn’t he? Had known from the moment he, as the snake, had bitten Mr. Weasley.

“Your father was hurt in the course of his work for the Order.” Dumbledore said calmly. “I’ll be sending you to Grimmauld Place, where you’ll meet your mother. Your father is being treated at Saint Mungo’s, and it’s more convenient for them if you’re nearby.”

“Are we going by Floo?” Fred asked, his voice strained.

“No.” Dumbledore replied immediately. “The Floo Network is being watched. It isn’t safe. You’ll be taking a portkey.”

“He’s-- he’s gonna be okay.” Harry said, trying his best to be comforting. “The Healers have him. They always fix stuff.”

Ron cast him a fleeting glance, his face pale in the flickering candlelight. “I’ll… I’ll write you. Tell Hermione where I’ve gone.” He mumbled, and like that Dumbledore had herded the redheads around the portkey and they were gone.

McGonagall was watching Harry with an expression caught between wariness and sympathy, but there was another flash of light before she could voice either sentiment. Lily stumbled slightly, one of James’ old shoes falling from her hand. She recovered quickly and rushed to her son’s side, cupping his face in her hands. “Are you alright? What’s happened?”

“I-- Uh--” Harry struggled to put the words together. His mother’s touch was the one thing he could focus on, solid and real. He tried to use that to keep himself in one piece, which was a tough job, seeing as he felt as if he were shattering into smaller and smaller pieces with every passing second. “I might have killed somebody? Again?”

“It’s the middle of the night!” Lily said, as though this somehow negated the ability to murder someone. She didn’t seem too perturbed by the idea, probably due to the fact that thus far Harry had only ever managed to kill different versions of Voldemort.

“I-- I had a dream? And I was a snake, and I-- I bit him?” Even getting the words out was tough. Harry could admit his part in this to himself, but saying it aloud seemed to be solidifying his guilt in the eyes of others. “I bit him and he was bleeding. They-- they took him to Saint Mungo’s, though, so he’s safe. I think?”

“Who?” Lily stared up at her son, perplexed. He’d outgrown her in the past year, though she was hardly tall enough for that to be anything special. James had often said she’d be the shortest Potter by the time the triplets were done growing.

Harry swallowed hard, freeing himself from his mother’s grasp before stepping back. He hung his head, knowing he wouldn’t want to see her reaction. “Arthur Weasley.”

“But it was just a dream?” Lily turned to look at Dumbledore, who shook his head. He had, at some point, taken a seat behind his desk. McGonagall was standing beside him, frowning in concern.

Harry shook his head, unable to say the words himself.

“I believe… That now is not the time nor the place to be discussing such matters.” Dumbledore said solemnly. “For now, I would have you take Harry home. We’ll have a meeting over the break where things can be discussed in detail.”

Lily stared at Dumbledore for a moment before turning back to her son. “Come on, I left your father with the triplets. Should we get your sister?”

Harry nodded. “Y--yeah, I mean, she’ll be angry, but…”

Lily turned to McGonagall, tugging her robe tightly around herself. “Could you get Sarah? I doubt you want us wandering around the castle in the middle of the night.”

McGonagall barely spared Dumbledore a glance before she was out the door again, and Lily turned to place an arm on Harry’s shoulder. When she spoke, it was in a hushed tone that didn’t carry farther than the two of them. “Are you alright?”

“I’m just. I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “It’s weird. I just want to go home.”

“I have half a mind to keep you there.” Lily said, blowing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s alright. You said they took Arthur to Saint Mungo’s?”

“They did. He was bleeding a lot.” Harry wrung his hands, looking up to check the doorway. No sign of his sister or Professor McGonagall yet.

“Harry, can you look at me?” Lily asked gently.

“Yeah. Sure.” Harry said, looking up from the floor to his mother. “This better be one of those one time things.” He tried his best to laugh convincingly. “I’m not really in the mood for a round two.”

“There are ways to keep this from happening again.” Lily assured him, calm despite the deeply buried fear in her eyes. “But, Harry. If you hadn’t done what you did, Arthur might have died. This isn’t your fault.”

“I was in the snake.” Harry said. If anyone would understand him, it would be his mother. “I was in the snake, and it liked it.”

“But you didn’t like it.” Lily said firmly. “You’re scared. You aren’t the snake.”

“I guess.” Harry said, nodding. Another glance toward the doorway was useless. Being in Dumbledore’s office made him feel like he was being punished for something, and the fact that Ron’s panicked expression was stuck replaying in his head didn’t help. Even if he got out of this, would his best friend hate him? Would Ron think he was to blame? Harry certainly felt like he was. “I just-- It’s weird, you know?”

“I know.” Lily ran a hand through her hair, shoving it from her face. “Let’s just get you home and we can calm down there.”

“I didn’t do it.” Sarah muttered grumpily as she entered Dumbledore’s office. Harry would have laughed, at any other time-- Sarah hated to be woken up. “It’s Hari’s fault.” He knew she didn’t mean it how it sounded, but her words felt like knives, lodging themselves in Harry’s chest. Did she think it was his fault? Did she know what he’d done?

“Sarah.” Lily turned to her eldest daughter, frowning. “Not right now, honey. We’re going home.”

“Home?” Sarah asked, confused.

“Home.” Lily repeated, motioning for Sarah to join her. “Something’s happened.”

“Is Madhu okay?” Sarah asked, making her way to Lily.

“Yes, everyone is okay.” She said, putting an arm over Sarah’s shoulder and tucking her into her side. “We’ll talk about it at home, alright? Dumbledore, do you have another portkey?”

He got to his feet, moving further into the office and coming back with an old glass bottle, tarnished from years of use. He used the same incantation from earlier, causing it to glow gently once more. “We’ll be in touch.” He told Lily.

“I’m sure you will be.” She barely looked at him as she ushered Harry and Sarah towards the desk.

“We’re coming back tomorrow, right?” Sarah asked, rubbing her eyes.

“We’ll see.” She said, smoothing down her daughter’s bedhead.

* * *

 

“Where do I start?” Harry asked, nervously tapping his fingers against his knees. Even now, squished between his brother and his father on the couch, he felt like talking about what had happened with Mr. Weasley was too much. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty, but he did, and he couldn’t shake it. And his siblings had a right to know, just as his parents had said-- their parents, Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus were all in the Order, and if Mr. Weasley had gotten hurt on Order business, it was a real threat to them as well.

“At the beginning.” James said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“A very good place to start.” Sarah added, smiling at her mother.

“I still don’t know what’s going on.” Anne said, only a hint of whining in her tone. The triplets had been roused from bed, and the Potters were gathered in the living room. Everyone was in their sleep clothes, and Matt had a stuffed sock monkey propped up beside him.

“Um. See, I really don’t either? And that’s why we’re talking.” Harry said. “The reason why Charu and I came home early is ‘cause something happened, and it wasn’t a good idea for us to be at school anymore.”

“You beat up Umbridge!” Drew gasped.

“No, actually. I’m saving that for spring term.” Harry joked. He wiggled his toes inside his socks, looking around the room at his siblings. “I had a weird dream, and then a lot of stuff happened, and it turns out Mr. Weasley got really badly hurt last night, while doing Order stuff. And Amma and Appa said we should talk about that as a family, since they’re in the Order, and so are Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus.”

The younger Potters looked at each other uneasily. “Is… Is Mr. Weasley okay?” Matt asked in a hushed tone.

“Mr. Weasley is fine.” Lily said. “He was admitted to Saint Mungo’s, and he’s in stable condition. Molly is with him now, and the kids will be allowed to visit tomorrow. We can go, too, if you want.” She directed the last part at everyone, but glanced at Harry as she spoke.

“How come you went to Dumbledore’s office over a bad dream?” Sarah asked, frowning. Harry scooted further back, as if he could disappear into the couch if he tried hard enough. “When Professor McGonagall came to get me, all she said was that you were there ‘cause of a bad dream and Amma had come to pick us up.”

“I, uh, saw it happen?” Harry said, carefully avoiding eye contact. “The-- the snake that bit him? I was stuck in its head. While it did it.”

“Wow.” Sarah said. “That’s a bad dream.”

“Yeah.” Harry grimaced. “Don’t want to have that one again.”

“Hari, we’ve talked about it, and we don’t think this was a random vision.” Lily let out a heavy breath. “I want to teach you Occlumency, if you’d be okay with that.”

“Oh, great.” Harry groaned, trying to give his siblings a moment of normalcy in the middle of all of this. “More school.”

“Hari.” James said gently. “Take it seriously, please.”

“Sure.” Harry shrugged. “I mean, if it’ll stop it from happening again…”

“It might not stop it entirely.” James said, casting a glance over to Lily to make sure he was on the right track. When she nodded, he continued on. “Depends on how well you do it, really. But it might be able to help.” He put an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “You have enough going on, this year.”

“What was Mr. Weasley doing, Amma?” Sarah asked. “Hari said it was just Order stuff. Do you and Appa do things like that too?”

Lily sighed, tucking her hair behind one ear. “We do the things that are necessary to ensure a better future.” She said tiredly. “There’s always a possibility that we’ll get hurt doing it.”

“Yeah, but what about our future?” Sarah argued. “If one of you gets hurt, we’re affected too!”

“You’re our parents!” Anne agreed. “You can’t just expect us to accept that!”

“We’re your parents. That’s true. But we’re also more than that.” James said. “We’re people who want to better the world, and people who care about others. And that doesn’t stop, just because we have kids. Of course we want you to be safe, and of course we want to stay out of trouble, but there’s no avoiding trouble if you want change. People get hurt doing lesser things.”

“I mean, it makes sense.” Harry agreed. “You can’t just sit and wait for things to get better. If you’re just waiting and not doing anything, you’ve pretty much taken the bad side.” James patted his shoulder, and Harry felt a little braver. “And Amma and Appa don’t wanna wait. ‘Cause if you wait, it might not ever happen.”

“Yeah, thanks for your addition.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’re trying to explain away almost dying every year under this, huh? Don’t think we’ve all forgotten your wonderful track record.”

“Look, it’s not like I ask for these situations--” Harry began, but Sarah cut him off.

“Oh, right, you don’t! That totally makes a difference! You just make crappy decisions that have only crappy outcomes, and refuse to change that!” Sarah spat, eyes blazing with anger. “So that’s just part two on the parents at constant risk of death, then. Great! I’m so glad we’re all on the same page.”

Matt, by that point, was crying softly into his hands. Anne had gotten to her feet at some point during the yelling, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“All you think about is how situations affect you.” She said, her face almost as red as her hair. “You don’t think about how we’re stuck at home worrying about whether or not you’re gonna die!” She turned on her parents. “I don’t care if it’s for the greater good! We don’t care about everyone else! We care about you, cause you’re the only parents we’ve got!”

“We know that.” James said, obviously uncomfortable with the direction the discussion had taken. “And we’re careful about the types of things we volunteer for or get assigned to, because we know the goal is to come home to you kids every night safely. We try our bests to avoid any kind of danger, and you’ve got to trust us on that.”

“If you were serious about that goal, you wouldn’t go at all.” Anne spat.

“Uh.” Drew finally spoke up, looking as uncomfortable as James. “I get it… why it’s necessary. But Hari Anna had to watch Mr. Weasley get hurt. I don’t wanna have to watch you guys get hurt.”

“Hari… Hari is in a unique position.” James said. “One we can’t keep him from, looks like. But none of the rest of you will be involved, in any way. We will do our level best not to get hurt, and if anything happens, you won’t be there.”

“He means while it happens.” Harry clarified, before either of his sisters had a chance to seize upon his father’s mistake. Appa was always best having emotional conversations in Tamil-- he tended to pick the wrong words in English far too often. “Not afterward.”

“Fine!” Anne shouted. “Maybe once you’re all dead and there’s no one left to protect us, we’ll just make stupid decisions and die the same way!” She turned on her heel, marching out of the room. Drew looked torn between chasing after her and continuing to console his sobbing brother.

“Hari said you’d be choosing the bad side by not doing anything at all.” Sarah said coldly. “I’m not sure you haven’t by doing something as well.”


	14. Area Kids Have Worst Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wouldn’t be in the middle of all of this if it wasn’t my responsibility.” Harry said, sounding much more serious than he’d intended. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Amma.”
> 
> “You’re fifteen.” She told him firmly, though not unkindly. “Whether you’re in the middle of it or not doesn’t change that. I am your mother and it’s my job to protect you, and I’m not about to do that by letting you fight a battle that isn’t yours.”
> 
> “I’m not going to be fifteen forever.” Harry argued. “If-- If everything holds off until I’m seventeen, I want to fight. I won’t just-- I won’t be able to just run, you know? Not when everybody else could be hurting more because I’m safe. Not when he comes looking for me every time.” Harry swallowed hard. “Not when I could be risking you all too. Maybe-- Maybe this time it’s the Weasleys, but who’s to say you or Appa might not be next? Or Uncle Sirius? Or Uncle Remus? You’re all in the Order to. He’ll-- He’ll do anything to--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Here begins the busy period of our summers-- we're sorry updates haven't been as consistent as we'd like. We're doing our bests, but schedules are kicking our butts right now. Next Friday (6/17), there won't be a chapter, but hopefully we'll come back strong on the 24th. There's a lot of travelling and big changes going on in the coming week, so finishing a chapter just isn't feasible.
> 
> Within the next two weeks, however, stay tuned for our entry to jily fest's Trope Fest, which you can find more information about [here](http://jilyfest.tumblr.com/trope)! We've got something huge and hilarious in the works, and we hope you all like it.
> 
> On a more somber note, our prayers go out to those affected by the shootings in Orlando, especially the victims, their families and other LGBTQ folks of color. Racialized homophobia and transphobia are disgusting and need to be wiped from the face of the earth. Hopefully the families and any other LGBTQ folks of color affected find peace of mind, hope for a better future, and are blessed with permanent, positive change very soon.
> 
> -S&L

“Ward my mind?” Harry asked. “Amma, I love you, okay? You’re a great teacher. I’m really enjoying this quality time together. But what does that even mean?”

“It’s not too hard.” Lily assured him, setting down two mugs of hot chocolate. “Well, okay, it’s a little hard. But that’s why I’m teaching you. Voldemort… He’s a master of Legilimency. He can extract feelings and thoughts from another person’s mind- which is why you need to learn Occlumency.”

“Why doesn’t he just pull all my feelings and thoughts out then?” Harry asked, frowning. “If he’s really trying to beat me, which he is, wouldn’t that be the easiest way to do it? Then I wouldn’t remember anything I used to beat him before.” He picked up his mug, drinking nearly half its contents before setting it back down on the table and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“It’s much harder long-distance.” Lily said, sitting down across from her son. “Without a solid connection to you, it’s probably easier to put thoughts into your head than it is to take them out.”

“Let’s hope he stays really far away, then. I’m liking that long distance.” Harry smiled, even though the thought of another incident any worse than the last terrified him. The more jokes he made, the more it would put his mother at ease. And, in the current situation, she deserved all the peace of mind she could get. “That’s fun to hear.”

“Sorry.” Lily grimaced over the rim of her mug. “But that’s what I’m here for, right? You have to try and concentrate on warding your mind. Blocking it off. I’m going to try and get in.”

“Alright.” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “Time to hide every bad thing I’ve done in the past fifteen years.”

“That’s ambitious.” Lily raised an eyebrow. “Maybe focus on the bigger stuff.”

“I really love the confidence you have in me.” Harry said with a sigh. He hadn’t done that much worth hiding, or at least he thought so. His father did call him shameless a lot, though, so maybe some of the things he’d done should be hidden. Hopefully Voldemort wasn’t having too good a time sorting through his memories. “Truly extraordinary. I love you too.” 

His mother had mentioned that the best way to block your mind against an intruder, at least when starting out, was to clear all your thoughts from your mind. It sounded simple enough in theory, but Harry found himself thinking about the fact that he wasn’t thinking about anything, when trying to apply it. How did anyone ever get this done? 

“Uh, I think I’m ready.” Harry said, despite not being ready in the slightest.

Lily set down her mug, bracing her hands on the table in front of her. She stared into Harry’s eyes, and suddenly the green of his mother’s eyes was all he could see. He could feel her mind touching his own, rooting through his memories on her way through his head.

Harry was eight years old and running through the long hallways of Periya Kovil, not stopping despite his father yelling his name. Then, he was nine, and catching the Snitch during one of his Little League matches. Then, he was in the Forbidden Forest as a first year, looking across the clearing at the cloaked figure he’d realized was Voldemort.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, Lily drawing back mentally and physically as she sagged into the couch. 

“Should-- should we try again?” Harry asked, eager to do better this time.“I can’t get my whole mind empty. I just keep thinking.”

“Don’t try clearing everything right away.” Lily advised. “Try just… dusting off the top layer, and focusing on the lack of thought, as opposed to thinking about not thinking anything. Imagine it, instead of practicing it.”

“Alright… I can do that. That’s doable.” Harry shut his eyes, trying to clear his mind again. Remember, he told himself, the best way to keep your mind safe is to have nothing in it. He imagined a white room, completely empty, and nodded. “Right. I’m ready.”

Lily leaned forward again, her eyes as intense as they had been the first time. Harry could feel the pressure of his mother’s mind pressing against the doorless walls of the white room, and for a moment he thought he could keep her off. Perhaps that thought was exactly what he did wrong, because a moment later the image crumbled and he could feel her presence once again.

Lily sat back once again, a small smile curling at her lips. “That was good! I mean, it wasn’t fantastic, but it was a really good start.” She told him.

“I’ve got to get beyond a good start if I want to keep him out.” Harry said resolutely. “Do you want to go again?”

“You bet.” Lily said. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Harry cleared his mind, like he was dusting off his bookshelf, which desperately needed dusting, seeing as he hardly ever touched it. “Right. Let’s go.”

Lily wasted no time in diving back into his mind, her own reaching harshly for any sort of thought she could get a hold on. 

Harry didn’t mind much when his mother broke through the protections he’d thrown up, passing through old childhood memories, although he wasn’t enjoying the fact that she now knew who had really broken Aunt Petunia’s ugly, old vomit colored vase. His father had taken the blame for it for nearly a decade now, and now that she knew he’d been covering for Harry, who knew what would happen?

Suddenly, his mother reached a little further than anticipated, and caught hold of a memory he wanted her nowhere near-- his first detention with Umbridge. He had to stop her before she saw-- he could practically feel the burning in his hand like it was happening all over again, and he hoped she had no idea what the memory was really about yet. As if he were physically pushing her out of his head, he took hold of whatever barriers were still intact and blocked her off before pushing them hard. 

She couldn’t see that. He wouldn’t let her.

Lily’s mind jerked violently away from his thoughts, returning a moment later to try and press it’s way back in. When she could find no cracks in the mental barriers Harry had desperately forced up, she retreated entirely.

“Hari!” She gasped, excitement clear in her voice. “That was perfect!”

“Was it?” Harry asked, relieved. “Oh. That’s good.”

“Well, I got in initially, which is less than perfect, but you blocked me out very suddenly. It was startling enough that I didn’t have much of a chance to stop you, you know?”

“I’ll just do that from the beginning then.” Harry nodded. He’d just have to have the walls up all the time, then, if he wanted to keep Voldemort out. Perfect. That didn’t sound draining, time consuming, or plain annoying at all.

“The problem is that he seems to be projecting to you while you’re asleep, which means that you won’t be able to actively block him…” Lily frowned, tugging at the end of her ponytail. “Which means we’ll have to work on your passive protection.”

“Which means I’m going to have to be doing that all the time?” Harry asked, eyes wide. Now that he couldn’t play Quidditch, he had all sorts of free time, but this would probably eat up all of it. “How am I supposed to do anything else?”

“No, no, passive protection is like… When you get so good at something, you start being able to do it without really paying attention?” She hummed, searching for a suitable metaphor. “Like how Charu can read a book while also holding a conversation. She’s reading the words, but she isn’t really processing them.”

“I think it’s the other way around. She’s reading the words, but she isn’t processing the conversation.” Harry said. “It would explain why she never remembers talking to me.”

“Either way makes sense for the point I’m making.” Lily shrugged. “You just have to practice a lot, and eventually you’ll be able to do it without thinking.”

“I guess.” Harry said. “I just don’t get why he’s wasting time with me when he’s got other, more evil things to do. I mean, I get it. I’ve beat him a couple times and he’s angry about it, and you and Appa have beat him a couple times and he’s angry about that too, but...” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just wish he’d leave me alone.”

Lily reached across the table, pressing her hand against Harry’s knee. “I know, sweetheart. We all do.” She murmured. “But we’re not going to stop fighting. One day, we’ll win. Then he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

“But I want you to.” Harry said, looking away from his mother. “I mean… They weren’t wrong, the girls. You and Appa… you shouldn’t.”

Lily sighed, pulling her hand back to tighten her ponytail. “I know.” She said, finally. “If it comes down to it… We’re leaving.” She looked up at her son, expression serious. “Hari, you can’t tell any of your siblings about this. Not yet.”

“We’re-- what?” Harry asked, completely shocked. “I won’t tell if you answer my questions.”

“We aren’t staying. There’s another war brewing and we barely survived the first one.” Lily’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “I’m not putting you through that again. If it comes down to it, your father and I have arranged for transportation for all of us to his family home in India.”

“But--” Harry frowned. What about the DA? What about Ron and Ginny, and all the other Weasleys? What about Hermione, who was arguably in much more danger than he was? He couldn’t just leave them to themselves and take the easy way out. He might be safer, hidden away with his parents, but he couldn’t take his safety at the cost of anyone else’s. That just wasn’t right. “The other kids aren’t involved, and they don’t need to be here, but… I’m right in the middle of this, and so are my friends and-- We need to keep Charu and the babies safe, sure, but I can’t just… drop everything.”

Lily frowned, concern settling over her features. “Hari… Sweetheart, this war isn’t your responsibility. You’re only a child.” She told him gently. “It’s our job to keep you safe.”

“I wouldn’t be in the middle of all of this if it wasn’t.” Harry said, sounding much more serious than he’d intended. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Amma.”

“You’re fifteen.” She told him firmly, though not unkindly. “Whether you’re in the middle of it or not doesn’t change that. I am your mother and it’s my job to protect you, and I’m not about to do that by letting you fight a battle that isn’t yours.”

“I’m not going to be fifteen forever.” Harry argued. “If-- If everything holds off until I’m seventeen, I want to fight. I won’t just-- I won’t be able to just run, you know? Not when everybody else could be hurting more because I’m safe. Not when he comes looking for me every time.” Harry swallowed hard. “Not when I could be risking you all too. Maybe-- Maybe this time it’s the Weasleys, but who’s to say you or Appa might not be next? Or Uncle Sirius? Or Uncle Remus? You’re all in the Order to. He’ll-- He’ll do anything to--” Harry trailed off. 

His vision was swimming, and despite wanting nothing less than to cry in front of his mother, he knew it was coming. It had been coming, all term, ever since the moment the first headline had been printed. Harry was tired. He’d been tired for a long, long time, and this was it. This was all the load he could carry, and he’d tried his best to last long, to make his parents proud, but it had finally become too much for one boy to handle.

Lily got to her feet, skirting around the coffee table and sitting next to Harry. She reached up to run a hand through his hair, tugging him down to her shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” She murmured. “It’s alright to cry.”

“It’s-- it’s a lot.” Harry said. It was all he could say, under all this weight. No other words could come close to what he felt, as ineloquent as they sounded. 

“It’s a lot.” She agreed softly. “I’m sorry. You should never have had to go through all of this.”

“It’s not like you did it to me.” Harry said, rubbing roughly at his eyes. “He just sucks.” He was fully aware that he sounded more like a petulant toddler than a teenager, but that was just fine.

“He’s a total prick.” Lily said, continuing to run her hand through her son’s hair. “I should have punched him when I had the chance.”

“You had me, and I was the better option.” Harry pointed out. “Appa should’ve punched him. Can we count on him for anything?” The accusation was weaker than he’d have liked it to be, tempered by the way his voice shook.

“Well that’s what I’ve got you for.” Lily shrugged. “I needed a little guy to take care of, you know?”

“I’m bigger than you.” Harry pointed out. “It looks weird when you call me little now.” 

“You’ll always be my little guy.” She said, turning to kiss his temple. “My little Hari.”

“Yeah.” He put his head back down on her shoulder. “Thanks. For getting us out.”

“All I did was grab a portkey.” Lily whispered, and there was something heavy in her voice. “I had to leave James behind.”

“I asked him about that once.” Harry said. “He didn’t say anything useful.”

“He rarely does.” She let out a breathy laugh. “He doesn’t like to talk about what happened. It… It wasn’t anything good.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “Not too much good can come out of a home invasion.”

“Guess not.” Lily said. “Come on, I’ll make us some more hot chocolate.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Harry said. “Maybe that’ll clear out my head some.”

Harry had just found himself a perfect spot in the cocoon of blankets he’d made himself when he heard a knock on his door. “Come in!” He called, carefully extricating his head from the bundle of blankets without disturbing the rest.

His father came into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. Something was wrapped around his fingers, and he kept tapping at it with his thumbs. Harry sat up quickly, the blankets he’d rolled himself up in shifting too far out of place to retain their shape. He’d figure it out again soon enough-- it wasn’t like it had taken far too much work the first time. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, trying to be as casual as possible. If his father had sought him out, it may very well have had something to do with Mr. Weasley, a subject Harry didn’t feel ready to discuss just yet. “Edhaanu sollirkangalaa?” (Have they said anything?)

James shook his head, and Harry was glad he didn’t have to clarify. “Idha kudukkaruthukku vandhen.” (I came here to give this to you.)

“Yedha?” Harry asked, before his father slipped whatever he’d had stretched around his fingers off and untied the knot. Now that he was closer, he could see that it was some sort of a bracelet, with reddish-brown beads held together by string. Probably another of those weird remedies his father forced on them when they had colds or weren’t sleeping properly, Harry thought. Great. (What are you giving me?)

“Kaiyya kudu.” Harry obediently held out his hand when asked, and his father tied the red string around his wrist, knotting it twice to keep it there. “Thathavodathu. Badhrama vechukko.” (Give me your hand. It’s your grandfather’s. Keep it safe.)

“What is it?” Harry asked, turning his wrist this way and that, the beads moving slightly with the motion of his hand. “Not that I’m doubting the fact that you gave me Thatha’s bead bracelet or something. I just don’t know what it is.”

James laughed, and Harry frowned in confusion. What had he said that was funny?

“Adi kuduthiruppaar, onga Thatha.” James snorted. “Those ‘beads’ are rudrakshams. They’re supposed to shield you from negative energy. Make things easier on you, I hope. At least, you’ll have your grandfather’s blessing with you.” (Your grandpa would’ve whupped your ass for that.)

“Oh.” Harry said, suddenly feeling as if he should be a little more careful with it. When anyone spoke to his grandfather’s portrait, it was easy to see where Sarah and Matt had gotten their serious, bookish personalities from, and he doubted that his grandfather would be glad about the roughest of his grandsons getting such a delicate gift. “Thanks.”

“It served him well as an Auror. And whatever you’re looking to do, I guess it’ll help you there too.” James ruffled Harry’s hair. “I don’t know if it’ll be as effective as what your Amma is teaching you, but it’s something.”

“Thanks, Appa.” Harry said, with a smile. “It-- It means a lot. I know you don’t have much of Thatha’s stuff here, and giving me this is…”

“It’s what he would do.” James said. “So it’s what I’ll do. It’s that simple.” He patted Harry’s back. “Right. I’ll leave you to your sleep. Be good. Sweet dreams.”

“Thanks.” Harry said, as his father made his way back to the door.

“Cut it out, alright?” James said. “Just sleep, for once.”

“Got it.” Harry laughed. “Night.”

“Night.”

Christmas had never been an important holiday to the Potter family, given their lack of enthusiasm for anything Jesus, but it conveniently happened to correspond with two of the triplet’s birthdays, giving them a reason for a party, which was something the Potters were very enthusiastic about. Matt had been born after midnight, technically speaking, though they never bothered celebrating separately-- the triplets were the triplets, and since they’d successfully shared a uterus for the better part of a year, they could very well stand sharing a day for the rest of their lives, no matter what their birth certificates said. 

This year, however, the party was in name only. The mood was anything but cheerful, and not a single person had scared anyone else with a noisemaker yet, despite it already being nearly lunch time. Usually the triplets were ridiculously excited for their birthday. Matt would be his usual quiet self, but with more smiling and less nerves. Drew would try to drag the rest of the family into games, usually orchestrated by Anne. It was always a good time.

Now, everyone was gathered in the living room, quiet and unsure. Lily and James had pasted uneasy smiles on their faces, but the triplets were almost unnaturally subdued. Sarah had brought a pile of books downstairs with her, squishing herself right up against Matt’s side in an effort to provide some measure of comfort as she read. This wasn’t a Potter family party at all, not in the least.

“Are we just going to go ahead and call this the worst ever?” Harry asked, looking around the room. Everyone was still silent, and he grumbled something rude under his breath before speaking up again. “Or are we waiting for more proof?”

“This is the worst.” Anne grumbled in response, red hair spilling over her shoulders as she dropped her head onto the tops of her knees. She was sitting on the floor, back to the couch and legs drawn up to her chest. “Madhu doesn’t even want to untangle the fairy lights.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, fingers twitching over the cover of one of Sarah’s books.

“Look.” Sarah said. “We can at least try to make this bearable.” She tapped Matt’s shoulder. “Why don’t you open your presents or something? Not that the other two of you shouldn’t.”

“Oh.” Matt glanced up and around at his family, perpetually slumped shoulders curling in a bit more. “Yeah, okay. That sounds… fun.”

It was common knowledge that Matt hated being the center of attention, especially if it meant opening presents in front of people, or being sung to over cake. “Anju has to open my present last.” Drew said, as though to save his younger brother. 

“Why?” Anne glanced at him suspiciously. 

“Cause it’s the best.”

“Alright. Anju’s last.” Sarah nodded. “Reverse birth order. Fun.”

“This is the worst party ever.” Harry muttered. “And I was there when Ron broke his nose at his own birthday.”

“Ron’s birthdays never turn out right.” Drew hummed, nudging a brightly wrapped package towards Matt, who took it hesitantly. 

“I think, at this point, we have to assume it’s Ron.” Harry said solemnly. “It’s gone bad, what, fourteen times that I know of? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Weasley would confirm that the first one went badly too.”

“Speaking of Mrs. Weasley”, Sarah said, and Harry immediately began fidgeting in his seat. “Is Mr. Weasley home yet?”

“Yeah, he got home yesterday.” Lily said, blowing a strand of hair from her face. 

“Percy didn’t go back for that.” Harry added. “And he sent back his presents too! And his sweater!”

“Worst Christmas ever.” Anne grumbled.

“We can’t expect much from him.” Sarah said, sounding rather annoyed.

“I heard about a nasty breakup too. Don’t think Oliver or Penelope are talking to him.” Harry said.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Lily cut in. “It isn’t our business.”

“Be there for your friend though, regardless.” James said. “Percy’s business is not your business, but Ron’s is.”

“Appa, I don’t think that’s how friends work.” Sarah cut in.

“I have two friends.” James replied sagely. “I know exactly how friends work.”

“What’s this?” Anne’s out-of-place comment successfully derailed the conversation, and Harry looked up to find her peering into a small jewelry box. The triplets had been absentmindedly opening presents, but now she was frowning down at what was in her hands.

“Oh, that’s from me!” Drew said, smiling. “I thought you’d like it!”

Anne reached into the jewelry box, pulling out a thick gold chain. At the end hung a locket, inlaid with glittering emeralds that formed a serpentine ‘S’. “What’s the S for?” She asked, not unpleasantly. She turned it over in her hand, admiring the way the light caught the gems.

“I can think of a lot of things that S could stand for.” Sarah grumbled.

“Dunno. Sassy?” Drew suggested. “Just make something up when you wear it.”

“... Yeah, okay.” She shrugged, pulling the locket over her head and tugging her hair out from underneath the chain. “It’s cute.”

“If you want people to think you’re a Slytherin, then sure.” Sarah shrugged. “Go ahead. Take your chances.”

“Oh, shut up.” Anne shot back automatically. A tense silence fell over the room at the reminder that the triplets would be attending Hogwarts next year. Perhaps, once, they would have been excited at the prospect. But after the events of the past few months, there was only a hushed sense of fear. Hogwarts was no longer a promise-- it was an obligation, and an unwanted one at that.

Matt sniffled, fingers clutching at a handful of tissue paper he’d pulled from a present bag. His eyes were shiny with tears, and they started to fall even before Lily wrapped him in a hug. There were no words of comfort for the smallest of the Potters. 

There was nothing anyone could say, Harry thought. It was all downhill from here.


	15. Everything Just Keeps Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s been…” James began, then took a deep breath. “There’s been a breakout from Azkaban.”
> 
> It felt like the bottom of Harry’s stomach had detached itself and dropped into his feet. A breakout? From Azkaban? Who had escaped? How? What had happened? A strange roaring sound filled his ears, and he shook his head, like the motion would knock the sound out of his ears. If his father was this agitated, then the escapees had to have been Death Eaters. And if Death Eaters were on the loose, the first place they would go would be Voldemort, who would send them after Harry’s family.
> 
> Harry felt as if he were going to vomit. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to our plans, there's twenty-three chapters in ROTR, which means we're coming into the last third of the book now! It's all jam packed with exciting stuff and wrapping up the plot for the next two and a half months, so get ready! Don't say this week's chapter title didn't warn you. :)
> 
> Hope everyone's having a good week, and we'll see you next Friday, on the 30th, to close out the month of June with some good old-fashioned sadness.
> 
> -S&L

Ron seemed to follow Harry everywhere he went. It was almost like the fact that they had been friends for nearly fifteen years now was overshadowing the fact that Harry had avoided him like the plague since the vision about Mr. Weasley. Ron seemed determined to corner Harry to talk, and Harry had been doing his utmost to deprive Ron of opportunities, eventually realizing that staying close to the Patil twins was the safest bet. But now Parvati was off somewhere with Lavender, and Padma had run off in the other direction, claiming now was when she met with Sarah to check up on her weekly, and Ron had found his opening.

He grabbed Harry’s arm to keep him from slipping away, looking determined.

“Mate, what has gotten into you?” Ron demanded. “You’ve been avoiding me since break ended, and you never answered any of my owls.” His voice faltered slightly, as though he were scared to admit what came next. “I… really could have used the support, you know. With Dad and Percy and everything…”

“Look.” Harry said, wrenching his arm out of Ron’s grasp. “You were there. When Dumbledore said what happened.” He didn’t want to think back to that night, didn’t want to remember the accusatory look in Ron’s eyes, but it flashed in his head regardless, like lightning striking him full in the face. “I just figured… I just figured you wouldn’t want to talk to the bloke that nearly killed your father is all.”

“What?” Ron pulled back, looking flabbergasted.

“Yeah. Uh. I’ll be going.” Harry said, turning around and sprinting for the stairs. Ron easily caught up to him, thanks to those long legs that Harry absolutely despised at the moment, and grabbed Harry by the shoulder. Harry turned on his heel sharply, coming face to face with Ron again. “What?”

“What the hell is that about?” Ron said, blue eyes frustrated behind his bangs. His hair had been getting longer, and it seemed as though Mrs. Weasley had neglected to cut it due to all of the chaos over break. “Almost killed my dad my arse, Harry! Do you honestly believe that rubbish? Who’s been saying that about you? I’ll set them straight, you just point me in their direction.”

“I saw the snake, Ron!” Harry exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one was listening in. “I was the snake!”

“You were seeing it from the snake’s point of view!” Ron shot back. “Last I checked you aren’t covered in scales, Harry.”

“Everyone seems to be convinced that I am.” Harry muttered. “First, I’m the Heir of Slytherin. Next, I’m seeing things from a snake’s point of view. What’s after this?”

“After this is me kicking your arse for being an idiot.” Ron puffed out a sigh. “Harry, you saved my dad’s life. They wouldn’t have found him in time if it weren’t for what you did.”

“He wouldn’t have been bitten if snake me hadn’t decided it was time for dinner.” Harry replied.

“I’m pretty sure the snake would have taken a chunk out of him whether you saw it or not.” Ron said, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re obviously taking this really hard. If you ask me, that’s proof enough that you didn’t want to do it.”

“I guess.” Harry admitted. “It’s just... It’s weird, you know? Nobody really expects mauling their best friend’s dad when they go to sleep.”

Ron made a face, nose scrunching up in a way that hid some of his freckles. “Yeah. I don’t want to say I’m glad you saw it, cause that sounds… really hard, and gross as hell. But at the same time, you were kind of the hero of the hour.”

“I’ve had enough of being a hero, if this is what it means.” Harry grimaced. “You want a turn?”

“I’ll pass.” Ron shrugged. “Figure I’d rather take my best friend to sneak into the kitchens.”

“Well”, Harry said, “your best friend might like that too.” He nudged Ron’s shoulder. “If you’re not changing your mind.”

“Come on,” Ron laughed, “I bet I can convince Dobby to make us hot chocolate.”

“If I’m there, we can convince Dobby to do anything.” Harry laughed. “Come on, I’ll race you.”

* * *

 

“You’re wondering why I asked you to come to my office, I assume.” said James Potter, while casting a worried glance through the door.

“You do a lot of stuff for no reason.” Sarah said, with a roll of her eyes. “I thought this was one of them.”

“Actually.” James said, returning to his nervous pacing. “It’s not nothing. It’s definitely something. Something big. Now, I don’t want you to worry, because both of you are safe here.”

“We’re worrying, Appa.” Harry spoke up, growing more anxious by the second. Why was his father pacing like that? What was happening? “You’re not helping.”

“I’m trying to help. I’m just trying to tell you things so that you can stay safe. That’s all I’m trying to do.” James said, checking, for the fifth time since his children had entered the room, that his wand was still securely tucked into his belt loop.

“Get on with it.” Sarah said exasperatedly. “I’m supposed to have met Kyung in the library two minutes ago. He doesn’t appreciate tardiness.”

“I don’t want either of you to worry.” James repeated, glancing toward the door again. “But something’s happened.”

“As you said.” Harry said, glancing over his shoulder at the door as well. Was there something there he should be looking for? This felt oddly like when Peter Pettigrew had broken into the school third year, except no one was under the desk. One look at his father, though, and Harry knew that wasn’t far off. James Potter looked like he’d been scared out of his mind, and between the pacing and the rambling, Harry wasn’t very sure that he was going to take whatever news his father was about to give well. “What happened?”

“There’s been…” James began, then took a deep breath. “There’s been a breakout from Azkaban.”

It felt like the bottom of Harry’s stomach had detached itself and dropped into his feet. A breakout? From Azkaban? Who had escaped? How? What had happened? A strange roaring sound filled his ears, and he shook his head, like the motion would knock the sound out of his ears. If his father was this agitated, then the escapees had to have been Death Eaters. And if Death Eaters were on the loose, the first place they would go would be Voldemort, who would send them after Harry’s family.

Harry felt as if he were going to vomit. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t.

“Who is it?” Sarah asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She’s barely twelve, Harry thought, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest. How did she already know how not to act scared? “That escaped.”

“Rookwood. Travers. Dolohov. The Lestranges.” His father said, the words stretching as he spoke them, vowels elongating and consonants sliding into each other. His English always got rocky when he was upset. “I talked to Neville already. Avana konjam patthukko, Hari. Andha Lestrange muttaalunga dhaan... Avane solluvaan.” (Look after him a little, Hari. Those idiot Lestranges were the ones that… He’ll tell you.)

“Right.” Harry said, uneasily running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go find him.”

“Enakku onnu theriyakudaathaa?” Sarah muttered angrily. “Great. I’m glad. Thank you.” (So I shouldn’t know anything?)

“Adhu mathiri onnu sollalla.” James replied, his words a little sharper than he’d like. He sighed deeply, before opening his arms to Sarah, who eyed him carefully for a moment before trudging over and burying her face in his chest. “Paatthukarutthukku naan irukken, illaiya? Bhayapada vendam.” (I didn’t say anything like that. I’m here to keep you safe, right? No need to be scared.)

Harry stared at his hands, tightly clenched in his lap. He, just as much as his father did, knew those were empty words.

Hopefully, Sarah didn’t.

* * *

 

Harry found Neville huddled in the shadows of one of the greenhouses, tear tracks cutting through the dirt on his grubby face as he pruned a self-fertilizing shrub. He’d forgotten his gloves, today, while tending to his plants, and the sight would have made Harry smile, were Neville not crying. Also, Harry suddenly realized, self-fertilizing plants fed on flesh, which he knew because he had actually done the Herbology essay, thank you very much, and not copied off his Herbology genius of a boyfriend, like everyone seemed to think he was doing. Neville wouldn’t take kindly to Harry telling him not to prune the plant at all, but maybe he could use some help. Help who had gloves.

He ran up to Neville, digging his gloves out of his school bag and pulling them on before picking up a second pair of scissors. He’d rather not lose his hands. Presumably, one needed those to fight Voldemort.

“Right.” Harry said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “You tell me which ones to cut off, and I’ll help.”

“You never cut the right ones.” Neville said, voice thick and heavy, wiping his snotty nose on the sleeve of his sweater. Harry chuckled, then waited for Neville’s instruction before carefully snipping off a rather yellow looking leaf. “I have to tell you and tell you and tell you, and you only end up listening when something tries to hurt you.”

“Story of our lives, isn’t it?” Harry mused aloud, and in his focus on snipping another leaf, missed the darkness that settled onto Neville’s face for a second. “Always getting hurt by things we didn’t ask for.”

“He told you.” Neville said, and Harry nodded. “The-- The Lestranges, they’ve escaped. They’re just… running around somewhere now. Free. Outside the prison where they fucking belonged, I just--”

Harry put down his scissors before carefully prying Neville’s out of his hands. “Neville.” He said, as comfortingly as he could. “You don’t have to tell me. But you can. I-- I get this stuff, you know that.” He rubbed a thumb along the soft curve of Neville’s cheek, spreading dirt in a wide arc. “Come on. It’s just me. Just Harry. You don’t have to be upset.”

“They were the ones who tried to-- with my parents, after yours got attacked. They, um, they broke into our house and-- they tried to--” Neville took a deep, shuddering breath, looking like he was about to shatter into a million pieces, and Harry couldn’t take the sight of him anymore, hugging him as tightly as he could instead. “They tried to kill them. To kill me too.”

“Wow.” Harry said, as Neville sobbed into the side of his neck. “That’s-- God.” His neck was beginning to hurt from how he’d bent his head down to lessen the space between them, his chin digging awkwardly into Neville’s cheek. “Are your parents safe?”

“My grandmother’s making arrangements.” Neville said, between deep, desperate gulps of air. “I-- I’m terrified, what if they go after them again? What if they win this time?”

“No one’s going to get hurt anymore.” Harry said, frowning deeply. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“What-- what do you mean?” Neville asked, pulling away to hold Harry at arm’s length. He seemed shocked by the serious expression on Harry’s face, looking at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I’m going to end this. And soon.” Harry said resolutely. “Everyone will be safe if this is over. So I might as well end it.”

“You don’t have to.” Neville said quietly. “The Order and Dumbledore and the Aurors will.”

“It was my family last time.” Harry said. “I’ve made my peace with the fact that it will be us again.”

* * *

 

“Alright, you ready to get started?” Lily was perched on the edge of her husband’s desk, legs crossed and hands folded like she was expecting the Queen of England to walk through the door. Harry assumed she was just nervous about doing this at Hogwarts, as Dumbledore had insisted, instead of in their living room.

“I’m never ready.” Harry said miserably. “If I think about stupid things all the time, will that break him?”

“Maybe.” She laughed. “But I’d feel more comfortable if we kept practicing.”

“Great. If practice doesn’t work, I’ll dig up all the Divination work I’ve done for the past year and a half.” Harry said. “I should study for my OWLs, and I can drag him to hell with me. Multitasking.”

“I never put much stock in divination.” Lily shrugged. “Wasn’t very good at it. Your father took it, though.”

“Unlike him, I haven’t had any life changing visions yet.” Harry sighed in exasperation before looking completely mortified. “Well, I might have changed Mr. Weasley’s life some.”

“Our goal is to stop the life changing visions.” Lily pointed out. “Alright, sit down if you need to.”

“No, I’m good.” Harry nodded. “Let’s do this.” Imagining walls had worked last time, so he tried to replicate it, trying to keep his memories as well hidden as possible.

Lily’s mind brushed against his own, familiar and gentle at first, but then more forcefully. She seemed to seep through the cracks of his imagined walls, tearing through them like cardboard after only a few moments of resistance.

Once she’d gotten in, there was no stopping her. Harry pushed the least dangerous memories out in front in an effort to protect everything else. That was a tactic he could use against Voldemort as well-- a person could only handle so many of Anne’s tea parties in a row before they lost their minds.

Suddenly, something slipped out through a crack he’d left, and he couldn’t stop it. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad. It had felt familiar, but in an off putting way, so it probably wasn’t too bad. A dark hallway, a door at the end-- oh no. Harry panicked, doing his best to strengthen the walls surrounding his mind. She’d found the dream about the snake.

Lily’s mind snapped back, the tendrils of concentration retreating so quickly it was almost as though they had never been there at all. It was too late, though. The damage was done.

“Hari, was that the vision you had?” She stood, hands reaching out to grasp his arms. Even though she was almost a full head shorter than him, the urgency in her voice shook Harry to the core.

“Yeah.” Harry said. “The hallway… I’ve been dreaming about that hallway for a while, but that was the first time the snake was there.” He frowned.

She pulled back, frowning. “... I need to speak with your father.” She finally said.

“About-- about what?” Harry asked. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, Hari, sweetheart.” Lily assured him gently. “Dumbledore is in trouble.”

“For what?” Harry asked. “What’s anything got to do with doors?”

“If that door is where I think it is?” Lily frowned, looking away. “It means a lot.”

* * *

 

Harry tossed and turned that night, unable to fall asleep for more than five minutes. It seemed like every time he settled into a comfortable position, something would wake him up. He needed his sleep, considering there was school tomorrow, and he doubted telling a professor that he’d been studying Occlumency late at night would be a believable excuse for skipping class. Especially with OWLs coming up in a few months, he couldn’t afford to miss any classes-- if this year’s material was on the test, he’d be in big trouble if he hadn’t learned it inside and out, and, as Hermione always emphasized, going to class was the first step in holding yourself accountable for material.

Harry flopped onto his side and closed his eyes, trying his best to clear his mind. According to the books he’d read, that supposedly helped with falling asleep, but all he really ended up doing was thinking about how he was thinking about nothing, which kept him up even more. This whole Occlumency business was downright insufferable, Harry decided, but he hadn’t had any of those strange dreams since before the holidays, so it must be doing something successful.

If he had known what was coming, he would not have made that statement so easily.

He couldn’t tell where he was-- it was a large, cavernous room full of rows upon rows of shelves. The shelves were lined with little iridescent crystal globes, and if he squinted, he could see little labels pasted at even distances. Maybe the balls meant something. He was about to go closer when suddenly he felt a strong wave of anger course through him-- he was mad, furious actually, at someone. Something hadn’t worked out, and it had to do with these balls. Suddenly, he wanted to smash them all, and as he reached forward toward the shelf, he was shocked out of his sleep, sitting up straight in bed. What was in that shelf full of crystal balls that Voldemort wanted? What even were they?

There was no chance of him getting any more sleep, with all these thoughts on his mind, and Harry pulled some old shorts and a shirt he’d left lying on the floor on before exiting the dormitory as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake anyone. He stumbled down the stairs, one hand on the bannister to make sure he didn’t fall down. That would be a terribly pedestrian way to die, after having fought Voldemort and survived three times, and Sarah already had enough to make fun of him with. He sighed in relief, upon making it to the bottom of the stairs safely, and headed for his usual chair by the fire. What he didn’t expect, upon reaching what he’d always fondly thought of as his spot, was to find it occupied.

Ginny was curled up in the chair, gangly legs drawn up against her chest. She had been staring into the dying fire when he’d come down, but she seemed to shake herself free of whatever stupor she was in in order to look up at him. There was something hollow in her eyes, something Harry had never seen before. It was a long moment before she spoke up, and her voice was smaller than it had been in years.

“Can’t sleep?” She asked, pressing her cheek against her knees, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle.

“Yeah.” Harry said, pulling a nearby chair closer before flopping down on it. “I don’t know whether school or sleep deprivation is going to get me first, but mark my words, I’m not going to last through this term. And if I make it to June, well, it’ll be time for the yearly murder attempt.”

“Well, of course we can’t go a full year without a little bit of murder.” Ginny said, injecting false cheer into her voice in a thinly veiled attempt to cover the bitter tone. “What would be the fun in that?”

“We did, your second year.” Harry said. “Oh. No. Wait. Never mind, Peter tried to murder me. Haven’t had a year of peace since I turned eleven.” He sighed. “I’m old before my time, look at me.”

“We’ll be dead by twenty, at the rate you’re going.” Ginny breathed out a laugh, red hair falling over her face.

“What we?” Harry asked. “You’ve got to stay alive. Carry on my legacy. Tell the firsties I was brave, Ginny.” He laughed, feeling a little more at ease. “They need to know the truth!”

“The truth that you used to cry when your mum would try and wash your face after dinner?” Ginny shook her head in amusement. “Sure, why not?”

“Ah, knowledge.” Harry said, doing his best to look overly pretentious. “The heaviest burden of all.” His smile faltered. “Listen. Do you… do you mind if I ask you about something?”

“Depends on what you ask.” Ginny replied smoothly, her gaze wandering back to the fire. “Cause if it’s romantic advice, you’re fucked.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“Cause your face is ugly.” She shot back. “Also, I’m newly single. Again. What did you want?”

“Anybody I need to hit?” Harry asked. “Or tell Sarah about, so she can step on their toes or melt them with a Potions experiment or something?”

“Harry,” Ginny tilted her head again, looking at him in exasperation, “you’re avoiding asking me what you wanted to ask me.”

“Fine.” Harry sighed. “I’ll get on with it.” He paused for a second to collect his thoughts, staring at the fireplace. “When-- Your first year, when everything happened with the diary. Did you ever feel like… like you weren’t you anymore?” He wrung his hands in his lap.

Ginny once again looked into the fire, hooking her chin over the sharp bend of her knees. “I’d wake up covered in blood.” She said, in lieu of answering. “I couldn’t remember chunks of time, but I’d… dream about it. Blurry memories of things I couldn’t remember doing. I still don’t know if those are real or not. The whispering, too.”

“I thought talking to you might be the smart choice.” Harry said. “You were there, you know? You’ve dealt with it. And I… well, I haven’t been doing the best job.”

“I doubt there’s any good way to go about it.” Ginny answered sullenly. “I didn’t even do anything, in the end. You had to come in and save me from my own stupidity.” She paused. “Maybe you need to find yourself a knight in shining armor.”

“You weren’t stupid.” Harry said. “You were eleven. You shouldn’t have had to deal with anything like that. Hell, you remember me at eleven. I was an idiot. Nobody’s ever ready for what you went through.”

“And now you’re going through the same thing.” Ginny answered easily. “Nobody is ever ready for it, right?”

“It’s not the same thing.” Harry argued. “The diary was a whole other level. This is just some old man with some ridiculous point to make.”

“You’ve been beating yourself up for something that isn’t your fault. It’s stupid.” She sighed. “Don’t give me advice if you aren’t going to listen to yourself.”

“Seeing as listening to myself is what got me almost killed those last few times, I’d rather not continue.” Harry said.

“Then listen to me. No point in asking for my advice if you’re just gonna ignore it.” Ginny grumbled, more to the fire than to Harry. “It isn’t just gonna go away, you know. Some nights you’re gonna wake up wondering if that was just a regular old nightmare or if you’re out on the grounds, strangling chickens again.”

“Encouraging news.” Harry said. “I was kind of hoping it would. Go away, I mean. He’s been following me around for years, though, so there’s little chance of that happening. Sunk his claws in and all.” His thumb traced over the scar from the graveyard, a sad smile on his face. “It’s scary. Thinking that he might just mess around in my head until one of us is dead.”

“It’s a scary world we’re living in.” She agreed with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s gonna get better anytime soon. So, we might as well match, right?”

“Might as well.” Harry said. “It’s horrible, but at least I’ve got company.” He reached over the armrests separating him from her to ruffle her hair, like he used to when they were little. “I’d rather not have you as company, of course, but hey. It’s nice that someone gets it.”

Ginny looked up, the empty look in her eye finally abating to allow her usual exasperated anger. It looked almost hilarious underneath the mess of her hair. “Oh, screw you, Potter.” She said, a hint of amusement coloring the insult.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, after a moment’s silence. “I should’ve-- I should’ve noticed. Back then. That you were having trouble.”

She let out a loud sigh, kicking out one of her legs to whack against Harry’s shoulder. “This is like, the seventh time we’ve had this argument.” She reminded him. “Other people aren’t your responsibility. You had enough going on that year without me getting possessed by a freaky demon diary.”

“Never quite seems to end up that way.” Harry said. “It’s always me with other people’s lives in my hands. It’s a miracle nobody’s died yet.”

“Well,” Ginny hummed thoughtfully, “technically there was Professor Quirrell.”

“I almost forgot about Professor Quirrell.” Harry laughed. “My first murder. Joy.”

“He had it coming.” Ginny chuckled.

“I mean, if you’d met him, you would have known. He smelled like garlic all the time.” Harry grimaced. “Nobody could stand him.”

“I just thought he was scared of vampires or something.” Ginny shrugged. “He never really struck me as ‘Dark Lord of All’ material.”

“Well, he was the Loser Letting The Dark Lord Possess Him, and we all missed that.” Harry said. “Maybe we didn’t give Professor Quirrell enough credit.”

“Considering you killed him by touching his face? I think we gave him way too much credit.” Ginny laughed into her hand.

“Or maybe I was just a talented first year.” Harry said. “Give me some credit!”

“No way!” She laughed again, louder this time. “You aren’t even talented for a first year now, and you’re a fifth year!”

“Shut up!” Harry pouted. “I taught you something last week! First years couldn’t do that!”

“We can learn a lot from the youth of today!” Ginny said, dissolving into giggles. “I taught Fred and George the bat bogey hex when I was a first year!”

“The youth of today?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Maybe you were a good sister at some point, but you know mine too well to think she’d actually teach me something.”

“Sarah or Anne?” Ginny asked, wiping at her eyes. “Cause I think they could both teach you plenty.”

“What, how to blow up Aunt Petunia’s valuables?” Harry asked. “I can do that on my own.”

“But can you do it as efficiently?” Ginny asked seriously.

“Yeah.” Harry said, crossing his arms. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Not a word out of your mouth.” Ginny said.

“No.” Harry said. “That’s a word. I win.”

“And it is a word I don’t believe, so I win.” Ginny responded.

“You always win.” Harry sighed. “I’ll be wasting my whole life on this fight.”

“At least we aren’t dating.” Ginny said. “Then you’d really be stuck with me.”

“Thank god for that.” Harry laughed. “We’d be in a hell of a situation then.”


	16. From Bad to Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Remember how I said things were going to get worse?” He asked.
> 
>  
> 
> “You never said that.” Ron said, watching as the crowd of students began to disperse.
> 
>  
> 
> “You might have said that months ago, but who’s going to verify it?” Hermione said.
> 
>  
> 
> “Here’s worse.” Harry declared. “We’re screwed.”

Usually, Harry mused, as he raced down the stairs toward the courtyard, when somebody was screaming in Hogwarts, it was usually him. Anyone else would have taken that to mean something good, but as Harry had learned in his last four years, that usually meant that Voldemort was on the way. Great, Harry thought, as he jumped off the second step from the bottom straight onto the Entrance Hall floor, joining the throng of students clustered in the doorway. At least the crowd crushed the Voldemort theory-- people would be running if someone dangerous were here.

 

“What’s going on?” Ron placed his hands on Hermione’s shoulders, jutting his elbows out in an attempt to keep the crowd from jostling his shorter friend.

 

“Everyone’s supposed to be in class.” Hermione said urgently. “I can’t believe even the first years are standing out here!”

 

“We’re prefects.” He reminded her. “It’s probably our job to clear them out.”

 

Harry stood on his tiptoes, gently nudging a couple first years aside to get a better view, and spotted Umbridge, an overly sweet smile on her face, standing in front of Professor Trelawney, who was most definitely not smiling. Maybe people wouldn’t run if someone dangerous was here. Maybe they’d just gotten to used to drowning in waves of evil to tell danger from safety.

 

Trelawney was standing there, looking entirely out of place in the middle of the courtyard. Harry had never seen her outside of the divination classroom- she had once told them that she never left the tower, as it ‘clouded her mind’s eye’. She was wringing her hands in front of her, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “B-bu-but-”

 

“Everyone’s continued employment was contingent on passing their inspections.” Umbridge said, smiling wide. Harry thought that she resembled a shark, but the resemblance might have been heightened by the fact that Umbridge was definitely out for blood. “And you, despite whatever… prophetic powers you think you might have, did not.” Umbridge’s sneer was disgusting, proving clearly that she thought nothing of Divination.

 

“Just because she couldn’t give you a prophecy at will…” Hermione grumbled. Harry, wisely, chose not to remind her that she had said the same thing when she quit Divination.

 

“This is rubbish.” Ron hissed. “She’s predicted stuff before!”

 

“Is she actually _firing_ her?” Harry asked. “She was right once in the last five years. Isn’t that good for a seer?”

 

“Hard to pinpoint shit with seers, really.” Ron mumbled. “Some of ‘em don’t really do the whole prophecy thing, and are just real good at guessing stuff.”

 

“Historically speaking, seers have been grossly mistreated.” Hermione sniffed. “Whether one believes in their abilities or not, the Ministry most certainly does. Or did, at least. They used to round them up and keep them all in wards, where they could be present for any prophecies. Heaven knows what they did with all of them.”

 

“You can’t fire me!” Trelawney suddenly wailed. “Hogwarts i-is… It’s my home! I’ve worked here for fifteen years!”

 

“Oh, Sybil.” Umbridge laughed, and Harry was distinctly reminded of a donkey braying. “Hogwarts _was_ your home. You, like other unemployed adults, will just have to fend yourself.”

 

“What the bloody hell?!” Ron’s shout was lost in the sudden clamor as McGonagall burst forward, storming towards Umbridge with a look of righteous fury on her face. Dumbledore followed at a more sedate pace.

 

“And what, pray tell, do you think you’re doing?” McGonagall demanded, wrapping an arm around the sobbing Trelawney’s shoulders. “This is neither the time, nor the place. Sybil, allow me to escort you back to your rooms.”

 

“Minerva, I have the power of the Ministry behind me!” Umbridge yelled. “You _cannot_ interfere!”

 

McGonagall, hardly pausing as she lead Trelawney away from the crowds of students, cast a cold look over her shoulder. She was saved from Umbridge’s continued attention when Dumbledore pointedly cleared his throat.

 

“I hardly think this is necessary.” He said, peering over his glasses at Umbridge. “Sybil will continue to live at Hogwarts for the time being, and I shall appoint a new Divination professor in the meantime.

 

Umbridge scowled angrily as Dumbledore swept off toward the castle, he and Professor McGonagall supporting Professor Trelawney on either side, and Harry winced.

 

“Remember how I said things were going to get worse?” He asked.

 

“You never said that.” Ron said, watching as the crowd of students began to disperse.

 

“You might have said that months ago, but who’s going to verify it?” Hermione said.

 

“Here’s worse.” Harry declared. “We’re screwed.”

* * *

 

“If you eat eye of newt, you will gain superpowers and not have to take the final exam while Snape breaths down your throat.” Ron’s muffled voice drifted up from the floor, where he appeared to be attempting to fuse with the carpet.

 

“Ron.” Harry grimaced. The thought of eating an eye disgusted him, and he really hoped that was a general thing. Thankfully, his grandmother had spent much of her career working on safe variations on Potions, so there were a separate stock of healing potions kept for him and Sarah in the hospital wing. He was a little glad that they also had her name on them this year-- Pomfrey had probably despised the idea of having a Harry Potter specific box of potions in her office, especially since he used them so often. “That’s _gross_.”

 

“Ronald, you _know_ that’s wrong.” Hermione thumbed through another book before groaning and throwing it onto the unsteady pile beside her. Harry privately hoped it would fall, because maybe they’d stop arguing if it did. “At least _try_ to study. You won’t be able to fool the exam proctors, even if you manage to fool yourself.”

 

“I’m going to say fooling myself will make it easier, but I know you’ll only respond with a, ‘fooling yourself only hurts you, Ron, this is your future!’” Ron pitched his voice up in a ridiculous imitation of Hermione. “And then I’ll tell you-”

 

“Oh, so now you’re having my side of the conversation yourself.” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “That’s rich. Thank you, now we know you can just be both of us by yourself.”

 

“It saves us both the time.” Ron grumbled back.

 

“Can you just cut it out?” Harry hissed, glancing into the aisle between the shelves of books. Madam Pince was still at her desk, scowling at a book open in front of her. Harry resolved to pray for whatever poor student had turned that book in-- they certainly needed it, if they were ever going to set foot in the library again. “Pince is going to murder us.”

 

“Let her.” Hermione muttered, flipping through a book the size of her head.

 

“We wouldn’t have to take exams at least.” Harry sighed. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

 

“Who is?” Ron sat up, peering around as though to check that no one had noticed his impromptu fit of despair on the library floor.

 

“Repeated study is the only way to success.” Hermione set her book down on the table with a hard thump and sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Now, can you _please_ tell me what planet is the coldest in the solar system?”

 

“Uranus.” Ron said mockingly, sounding far too much like the twins.

 

“That’s correct.” Hermione said grudgingly. “But there’s no need to take that tone with me.”

 

“What tone?” Ron asked innocently.

 

“I’m going to die.” Harry groaned. “I’m going to die _right now_.”

* * *

 

Harry liked to consider himself a positive person, no matter what his sister said about him, but even he was getting run down by the sudden upturn in work. It seemed as if their teachers were cramming as much knowledge into their heads as possible, in anticipation of the upcoming standardized tests. Harry, like many of his other classmates, was sick and tired of their new attitude already. Keeping up with homework had been enough of a struggle already. He trudged down the hallway, rubbing at his tired eyes, knowing he had to stay awake a couple hours longer to get a Charms essay done before class the next day.

 

The relative calm of the the evening was shattered when a thick hand landed on his shoulder, turning him and shoving him into the wall. Goyle loomed above him, Draco and Crabbe at his side. Malfoy smiled, crossing his arms.

 

“Out after curfew?” He asked, smirking smugly. “I wouldn’t want to have to give you a detention, Potter.”

 

“You can't give me one. I'm not in your house.” Harry shot back. “Forgotten the rules already? Or are you just convinced they don't apply to you?”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Draco tapped a pin at the front of his robe’s, looking far too smug for his own good. It was a simple pin, a ‘I’ made of silver.

 

“I never took you for the jewelry sort of bloke.” Harry said thoughtfully. “I for idiot. That's cute. And fitting.”

 

“This is to show that I’m an official member of the Inquisitorial Squad.” Draco shot back. “A group of students who support the Ministry, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. It’s a great honor, and in times like these we need to rally behind our government.”

 

“Rally behind our-- you've got to be kidding me.” Harry blinked in surprise. “What makes you think I want to do that?”

 

“You’d better watch your mouth.” Draco told him sharply. “I can deduct points, as well as hand out detentions as I see fit. You’d better watch your step, Potter.”

 

“If you're worried about me stepping on your ego, I don't even need my glasses to see that.” Harry replied, turning sharply on his heel and running for Gryffindor Tower. With any luck, it should take Malfoy a second or two to get started, after he and his goons worked out the meaning of what Harry had said, and Harry was well aware that he was faster on the ground than Malfoy could ever dream to be.

 

So much for a peaceful night, he thought, as he said the password to the Fat Lady. Maybe the DA meeting tomorrow would be a nice break from all this stress.

* * *

 

“That must have been the weirdest Divination class _ever_.” Harry shuddered as he and Ron came out of the tunnel, having held up the end of the line after the meeting. Hermione and Ginny had gone up first, to make sure the hallway was clear for those heading back to their dormitories, and had probably long since returned to Gryffindor Tower. “What was that message for Hagrid about anyway? Your attempt is not working? He’s just come back from that weird vacation he took-- what attempt is Firenze talking about? His attempt to teach better than Umbridge ever could?”

 

“Imagine her teaching Care of Magical Creatures.” Ron winced.

 

“Don’t say it-- it might come true. Enough weird things you’ve said have.” Harry whispered the closing command, and the tunnel to the chamber sealed up, returning to its original, harmless form. He kicked a bathroom stall weakly, only succeeding in wiping some of the moss from the Chamber’s floor on the cracked stone floor.

 

“Who knows?” Ron shrugged. “Maybe she’d get eaten by a blast ended skrewt.”

 

“Do they eat humans?” Harry asked. “Maybe we can feed Malfoy to them. You know. Just to test it.”

 

No sooner had he said Malfoy than the door suddenly burst inward, revealing a smug Draco, seemingly summoned forth from hell by the mention of his name. Draco, as usual, was flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle, who had their wands leveled at Ron and Harry.

 

“Well, well, well. Look what we’ve found.” Draco smirked.

 

“Hanging out in a bathroom, Potter?” Crabbe sneered.

 

“A girl’s bathroom, no less.” Malfoy tutted disapprovingly.

 

“What’s your point, Malfoy?” Harry asked, crossing his arms. “This bathroom hasn’t worked in years. The real question-- why are you lot here?”

 

“Umbridge has suspected you’ve been involved in something dangerous for months.” He sniffed. “And here you are. You and the weasel hanging around in a broken bathroom.”

 

“That tells you _nothing_.” Harry spat, thankful that he’d gotten everyone else out of the way. “Bring me in, if you want, but leave Ron alone.”

 

“Screw that.” Ron snapped. “I’m going in with you one way or another.”

 

“Think about it, Draco. How much will Umbridge love the fact that you found Harry Potter in the act of convincing a prefect to join him in his evil plans?” Harry asked. He could practically see the cogs turning in Crabbe and Goyle’s heads. It was a miracle he and Ron had gotten away with pretending to be them for as long as they had second year. “That’s about ten times more evil than anything I’ve ever actually considered.”

 

Draco seemed to mull the idea over, still smirking down his nose at the pair of Gryffindors. “Are you trying to bargain with me, Potter?”

 

“Harry!” Ron turned on him, scowling. Harry resolutely didn’t look at Ron, trying to keep his cool.

 

“Come on, Draco.” Harry wheedled. Umbridge wanted him to admit to to doing something dangerous. Sure. That was easy enough, considering Harry had nearly always been doing something dangerous since the day he was born. He was used to admitting guilt, and with the Ministry after him like they had been all year, it was only a matter of time before they caught up to him. She would get him. But she wouldn’t get a hold of anyone else in the DA, not if he had any say in it. “Do your worst.” He said, offering up a challenge Draco couldn’t refuse. “Or, you could leave me here, and miss out on something to write home about. I’m sure your father would _love_ to hear about this.”

 

Draco led the way through the castle, practically preening with pride over having caught Harry in something underhanded.

 

Umbridge smiled as the small group entered Dumbledore’s office, and Harry recognized the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, a old friend of his father’s from the Auror Department. Under any other circumstances, he would have waved to Kingsley, but he felt as if this was the wrong time. Judging by the solemn expression on his face, it definitely was.

 

“Ah”, Umbridge said happily, “Harry Potter. Perfect. And where did you find him?”

 

“In a girl’s bathroom, ma’am.” He said. “Him and Weasley were planning something.”

 

“They’ve been doing more than planning.” Umbridge said imperiously, before pointing to a girl with curly strawberry blonde hair. She sniffled unhappily, her hands clasped over her face like she was trying to hide something. “Marietta, dear, show them your face.”

 

“No.” She whispered, choking off a sob. “No-- I can’t-- I can’t!”

 

“Marietta.” Umbridge said harshly, and Marietta drew her hands away from her face, revealing the word “sneak” written across her face in pus filled boils. “It could be _permanent_ , Minister. Potter has gone far enough.”

 

“Organizing a group of students to rebel against us.” Fudge shook his head, looking down his nose at Harry as he held up a familiar piece of parchment. “This is far too much. What does the DA even stand for, boy? Defense Association?”

 

“No.” Dumbledore stood up, seemingly calm. “It stands for Dumbledore’s Army.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore spoke again before he could voice his thoughts.

 

“Harry has been acting on my orders the entire time.” He assured them, hands clasped behind his back. Harry stared at Dumbledore in shock. What was he doing? “Nothing he has done has been of his own volition.”

 

“Arrest him!” Fudge suddenly demanded, surging forward and drawing his wand. Before he could do anything of importance, however, Dumbledore had winked at Harry, and a moment later a great flash of silver light filled the office. A moment later, when it had cleared, Dumbledore was gone.

 

There was a long beat of shocked silence, before Fudge cleared his throat. “We’ll start looking for him immediately.” He said to Kingsley, before turning to eye Umbridge. “I suppose this means you’re acting headmistress.”

 

“I suppose it does.” Umbridge said haughtily.

 

“I take back what I said.” Harry muttered to himself. “ _This_ is worse.”


	17. Good Luck, Evans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You think you’re so funny,” Lily spat, “but you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”
> 
>  
> 
> “I will if you go out with me, Evans.” James said quickly. “Go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivellus again.”
> 
>  
> 
> Behind him, Snape was beginning to inch towards his fallen wand, bubbles still streaming from his mouth.
> 
>  
> 
> “I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.” Lily sniffed.
> 
>  
> 
> “Bad luck, Prongs.” Sirius snickered.

“They’re everywhere.” Hermione whispered across the library table, as a Slytherin walked by, a silver I pinned to the front of their robes. “It’s like they’re  _ multiplying _ .”

 

“They’re like cockroaches.” Harry said, using the words his father would’ve. “Cockroaches never die.”

 

“I feel like this is even worse than cockroaches.” Ron groaned. “At least you’re allowed to spray those.”

 

“Watch, the next Educational Decree’s going to legalize murder, as long as it’s me or something.” Harry muttered. There was no bite to his words-- he was too tired for that. This was their last chance-- the DA was supposed to be the thing that saved them, that prepared Harry and his classmates for the war. And now the war was coming, and they hadn’t had nearly enough time. Everyone had improved by leaps and bounds, over the few months of practice time they’d had, and he’d taught them all he knew, but that wouldn’t be enough. 

 

Not against Voldemort.

 

“Don’t invite that on yourself.” Hermione said sharply. 

 

“Who knows what she’s planning next?” Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “And now the DA is gone, so we don’t even have that left.” 

 

“Hopefully Dumbledore running off keeps her busy.” Ron mumbled, glancing over his shoulder.

 

“The one thing he’s done right all year.” Harry groused. “What did he do all year anyway? Sit up in his office and let all of this happen? How are we supposed to trust him if he comes back, after this? He just hid and did  _ nothing _ while all of us fought her off.”

 

“The only thing he ever did was take the blame for you.” Ron folded his arms on the table and hunched forward. “What a tosser.”

 

“Dumbledore’s Army.” Harry snorted. “He wishes.”

 

“You say he just disappeared?” Hermione asked, and frowned when Harry nodded. “You can’t Apparate within Hogwarts, can you?”

 

“He’s no stranger to bending the rules.” Harry said, crossing his arms on the table and setting his head down on them. It was only a matter of time before Umbridge found something else to pin on him, and Harry was sick of this. Sick of the visions, sick of worrying, sick of being blamed. He’d tried his best to handle it with grace, but it was hard to handle anything when the thought of getting out of bed in the morning and facing your classmates left you sick to your stomach. 

 

“It’s not that he broke the rules, it’s that he managed to worm his way through all of Hogwart’s wards, if he was apparating.” Ron said thoughtfully. “If he can get out, who knows who could get in?”

 

“It’s just exams left, now.” Hermione said, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder. “Just a few weeks more, and we’ll all be out of here for the summer.”

 

“And what makes you think it’ll end here?” Harry said, lifting his head just slightly. “Once she’s taken Hogwarts, the Ministry’s got their claws in everything. It’ll just… spread, it’ll spread until he’s got all the openings he needs and he’ll just…” Harry trailed off, placing his head back down. “There’s no hope.”

 

“We’re all we’ve got, I guess.” Ron said, voice hushed in fear.

 

“Yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I wonder how far that’ll get us.”

* * *

 

"Well, George. We’ve had a good run.” Fred said, perching himself on the arm of the chair Harry was currently occupying.

 

“I do say we have, Fred.” George agreed amicably, leaning over the back of Ron’s chair in order to prop his arms atop his brother’s head. “We’re turning a profit, after all.”

 

“Turning a profit?” Hermione asked.

 

“Should’ve checked our audience, George.” Fred declared mournfully. “We have a betrayer among us.”

 

“Oh no.” His twin gasped, pressing a hand to his closed mouth. “Hermione is going to tell on us.”

 

“Your mother would love to know that you’ve been testing products on first years.” Hermione hissed. “This isn’t safe! You and so many others are stealing money off of small children and students addled by exams.”

 

“One of my friends is selling powdered dragon claw to help you retain more information or something.” Fred snorted. “People are shelling out Galleons on it. Can you imagine?”

 

“What suckers.” George snickered. “We would never rip off our customers like that, Hermione, don’t you worry.”

 

“Wait,” Ron frowned, “forget about that. What do you mean you’ve had a good run of it?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious, Ronnie?” Fred asked.

 

“We’re dropping out.” George remarked flippantly. 

 

“What?!” Ron jerked away from his brother, turning to stare incredulously at him. “Mum is going to kill you!”

 

“You can’t!” Hermione said. “You haven’t taken your NEWTs yet.”

 

“Oh, well, in that case.” George rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

 

“Ah, Mum will learn to live with it.” Fred said. “We’re going to be businessmen, though. With the money from the Marauders, and the extra we made this year, we’ve got enough to rent a space in Diagon Alley. We’re planning on opening in mid-August, to capitalize on the pre-Hogwarts rush. You should come, it’ll be great.”

 

“You can’t just… leave school.” Hermione said, disbelieving. “How are you going to manage that?”

 

George glanced at his brother conspiratorially, a dangerous smile on his face. “Come to the Great Hall in fifteen minutes if you really want to find out.”

 

“It’ll be well worth it.” Fred grinned, sliding off the arm of the chair. “Come along, George. We’ve work to do.”

 

The twins ran up to the portrait hole, exiting quickly, and Harry turned to Ron.

 

“They’re up to something.” He said. “But what is it?”

 

“They can’t just drop that on us!” Ron spluttered. “They’re dropping out and, oh, by the way, come to the Great Hall?”

 

“Whatever it is, it’ll be a big mess.” Hermione sighed. “Poor Filch will have to clean it up.”

 

“Poor Filch?” Ron looked flabbergasted. 

 

“Poor Filch.” Hermione said resolutely. 

 

Ron shook his head, climbing to his feet. “Come on. Mum will want a full damage report once she’s done having an aneurysm.” He mumbled, already power walking towards the door. 

 

The Great Hall was slowly filling with students, trickling in for dinner. The twins, unfortunately, were nowhere to be seen.

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

 

Umbridge was sitting in the Headmaster’s seat, looking imperiously down at the students slowly filtering in for dinner. She was engaging an uncomfortable looking Professor Flitwick in what was probably boring and inane conversation, pausing every so often to sweep her judgmental gaze across the hall. Some first years were actually shaking in their seats. Harry didn’t blame them-- if he was sitting, he probably would be too.

 

She stood, her lack of height projecting the illusion that she was much less dangerous than she was, and began her customary pre-meal speech, which Harry had drowned out until now, a habit he felt was beneficial to his health and general well-being. What he did notice, though, was when the constant, sickeningly sweet drone of Umbridge’s words stopped, cut off by a few startled gasps. Umbridge turned slowly, furious beady eyes trailing across the crowds of students to find the source of the disruption. 

 

It was… a firework.

 

A little red burst of sparks flitting about above the tables, circling a few first years as they ducked away with shrieks of laughter. 

 

“No-Fuss Fireworks.” Ron recalled in confusion. The twins had been working on them for months, following a hesitant request from Matt. Loud fireworks scared him, along with their parents, but he had wanted to enjoy them anyways. “What the hell….”

 

Umbridge scowled as she stalked toward the firework, the hem of her pink, fuzzy cardigan fluttering as she tried to move as quickly as possible. She looked more like she was dealing with a seasoned criminal than a firework, though Harry noted that she also treated him like a seasoned criminal, so maybe that was just her default. She reached the firework and harrumphed, reaching inside her sweater.

 

Just as she began to pull her wand from her pink cardigan, the firework shot towards the enchanted ceiling. For a moment it hovered there, shaking, and then exploded outward in a shower of sparks. The doors to the Great Hall burst open, and more fireworks whizzed through the air, colliding with tables and students and bouncing off the walls. The twins followed closely after on their brooms, weaving around each other and the wildly flashing lights. 

 

Students began screaming, some shrieking with laughter as pieces of enchanted paper rained down from the ceiling. _ Weasley Wizard Wheezes! _ , they read,  _ Coming soon to Diagon Alley! _

 

A small drawing of the twins was featured beneath, the two of them dancing in a circle. 

 

Umbridge was screaming something unintelligible, unheard over the chaos of the moment. Half the Inquisitorial Squad seemed to be torn on what to do, and the other half had ducked beneath the Slytherin table in an attempt to avoid what appeared to be a large dragon-shaped firework that was barrelling down toward the table. 

 

The twins cheered loudly, taking one final loop of the hall before zooming out once more, presumably to exit the school. They probably wouldn’t return home right away, in an attempt to avoid their mother’s wrath, but it was anybody’s guess where they would end up. 

 

It took much longer for the fireworks to finally die out, and by then Umbridge-- still red in the face-- was barking orders as she stormed from the room. 

 

“That was… incredible.” Harry said, awestruck. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many fireworks in my  _ life _ , and my dad took us back home for Deepavali one year.”

 

“It was something, wasn’t it?” Hermione said, obviously trying to restrain her enthusiasm. “An incredible display of magic.”

 

“That was bloody BRILLIANT!” Ron cheered, leaping to his feet. “Did you see that?! Geniuses!”

 

“A good end to a good six and a half years.” Harry said, nodding.

 

“Closer to six and three-fourths than six and a half, if we’re being technical.” Hermione cut in.

 

“Fractions are for losers.” Ron said.

* * *

 

“I get why Hagrid said to come meet him now.” Harry said, as he and Hermione trooped over to Hagrid’s hut. “But I also don’t want to miss the Cup.”

 

“We can ask someone else how it went.” Hermione said, dismissing the statement with a wave of her hand. “Ron won’t even notice we were gone.”

 

“He will.” Harry argued. “So one of us should go back, and--”

 

“Harry.” Hermione said firmly. “Hagrid asked both of us to come here. Are you going to let him down?”

 

“No.” Harry answered grumpily, stomping along beside Hermione. “Hagrid actually likes me. I don’t want to make him cry.”

 

“That would be horrendous.” Hermione said, as she knocked on Hagrid’s door. It swung open, revealing Hagrid, face painted shades of green and yellow thanks to fading bruises. Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock as she took in the sight of him. “Hagrid!”

 

“Nice to see you, Harry, Hermione.” Hagrid said, stepping out and shutting the door behind him. “I apologize fer callin’ yeh away from Ron’s last game, but yeh’ll see why I did it.”

 

“Are you taking us somewhere?” Harry asked, as Hagrid began walking toward the Forbidden Forest. “No--No way, I’m not going in there.”

 

Hermione grabbed Harry’s upper arm and took off running to catch up with Hagrid, dragging Harry along behind her. Once they’d caught up, she slowed her pace, but did not let go of Harry’s arm, as if she was convinced that he wouldn’t keep up if left to his own devices. Sometimes Harry hated how well she knew him.

 

After a short walk, they reached a clearing, in the center of which was a large, thick tree, a rope wrapped around its trunk.

 

“What’s that rope doing there?” Harry asked, very clearly aware that he probably didn’t want to know what was going on.

 

“Grawp!” Hagrid called out, and suddenly, the ground shook. Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm, terrified. What was Hagrid doing?

 

And then, seconds later, it became blatantly obvious why there had been a rope tied around the tree. An incredibly tall, stocky young man came around the tree, a ragged portion of the rope tied around his middle. Between his chubby cheeks and broad smile, Harry would have assumed that he was a small child, if he’d just seen his face. But when that child’s face was paired with the sturdy body it was perched upon, it just created an absurd image, one impossible to explain.

 

“He’s me brother.” Hagrid said proudly. “Half-brother, of course. I found him on a trip for Dumbledore, a few months ago.”

 

“A few months ago?” Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise. “You’ve been hiding him in here for  _ how long _ ?”

 

“Bit of a struggle ter get the centaurs to agree, but it worked out well.” Hagrid said, satisfied. “Grawpy’s not too bad of a boy, is he?”

 

Grawp roared, terrifying several small woodland animals.

 

“Hagrid.” Harry said calmly. “That’s not how little brothers act. I’ve got two. I know how they work.”

 

“He’s… He’s different.” Hagrid said. “He needs me, an’-- an’ I don’t know how long I’ll be around.” His face fell. “Umbridge’ll have me out of here by term’s end. I can’t leave him alone.”

 

“I get that.” Harry said. Although he wouldn’t tie Drew or Matt to a tree in the woods without a very good reason, he wouldn’t want them left alone in a new place, without him to watch over them. “So… why are we here?”

 

“I want Grawp to have somebody an’...” Hagrid trailed off.

 

“Hagrid… are you asking us to…” Hermione asked, frowning. “Do you want us to take care of him?”

 

“If I’m not here, he needs somebody.” Hagrid said. “I-- I don’t want him ter get hurt.”

 

“We’ll do it.” Harry said, nodding. “I can’t speak for during the summers, but if you’re not here next year… We’ll make sure he’s safe.”

 

“Thank you.” Hagrid’s eyes welled up with tears.

 

Harry looked back to Grawp, now playing with a bicycle horn. 

 

This couldn’t be too hard, could it?

* * *

 

Harry paced the floor of the room, a scowl on his face. There was no point! All he did was let his mother in just when he thought he was succeeding, time and time again, and he was tired of it! He was tired of failing at something he had to be able to do. It was different with the Patronus-- he’d spent time working on it, but it had come easily beyond a point, the magic flowing into the wand and out in the form he wanted it. This, this was all inside. There was no externalizing he could do. 

 

“I don’t get it.” He said, clenching his hands into fists. “I’ve been practicing! I swear! It just-- It just--” He couldn’t find the words, so he fell silent, anger burning through his veins. “This is just  _ stupid _ , I bet it isn’t working anyway.”

 

“Oh come on, Hari, you’re doing much better than before.” Lily assured him gently. “Let’s just give it another go, shall we?”

 

“I’m tired, Amma!” Harry threw his hands up. “I’m tired! And I am done! And I have exams to deal with on top of everything else! I’m done! Voldemort can literally eat me alive, for all I care!”

 

“Hari Potter.” Her voice took on a stern note, and he looked up to find his mother crossing her arms. It was the same stance she took whenever she found Anne and Sarah getting into a particularly nasty argument, or when Drew tried to sneak dessert before dinner. “That’s enough of that. I know you have a lot going on right now, but this is for your own good.”

 

“Yeah, I get it.” He grumbled. “I’d probably get a better grade in this than Potions anyway. Snape’s only going to pass me if I find a way to shame our whole family publicly before OWLs start. And preferably get Appa fired too.”

 

An odd expression crossed Lily’s face, and not for the first time Harry wondered why his parents hated Snape so fiercely.  They had attended Hogwarts at the same time as him, and he doubted he had been any better then than he was now. Snape was a generally disgusting and disagreeable person, but even that didn’t merit the outright loathing both of his parents regarded him with.

 

“Well, luckily Snape isn’t grading your OWLs. None of the professors are.” Lily finally said. “They bring in examiners from outside the school, so the results will be unbiased.”

 

“Oh, no, I mean the class.” Harry said. “Appa dug up your old notes for me for the OWL. I’ll pass easy.” He fell silent, remembering he wasn’t supposed to tell his mother that. “So… the weather’s been nice.”

 

Lily laughed at the abrupt topic shift, shaking her head. “Alright. One more time, then you can go back to the dorms, okay?”

 

“Alright. Sounds good.” Harry nodded, shutting his eyes as he cleared his mind. He cracked one eye open, obviously not concentrating anymore. “Can I fake it and go back now, or do I have to try?”

 

“I can always keep you longer.” Lily raised a single eyebrow. 

 

“Alright. Trying. Got it.” Harry took a deep breath, focusing on building the wall around his mind as high and thick as he could. “I’m ready.”

 

His mother’s mind immediately thrust its way through the carefully constructed walls. She had started to press harder faster a few lessons ago, barely giving Harry time to warm up before throwing everything she had at him. If this was how she was going to play the game, he was going to push right back. Harry threw all his strength into an offensive assault, dropping the walls he’d built around his mind in what was an incredible risk, against someone as well trained as his mother.

 

Harry imagined he would never have succeeded, had he not caught his mother by surprise. He’d never thought to throw his own mind back in order to counter the intrusion, but was surprised to find it was easier to slip in than he had ever expected. If this was how his own mind felt, it was no wonder he’d been having such rotten luck blocking her. 

 

For a moment it was like falling. There was a mad scramble of confusion and nothing, and then quite suddenly he was sitting by the Great Lake.

 

Hogwarts looked almost exactly the same, though he couldn’t recognize any of the students lounging around on the lawn. A gaggle of Slytherins and Gryffindors were seated nearby, furiously studying rolls of parchment. Past them, Harry could see a few Ravenclaw girls, and a few scattered individuals. Even further away, near the top of the hill, was a large beech tree with another group of boys. The yard was teeming with students, probably due to the warm breeze that ruffled through his hair, and the sun shining off the lake in starbursts of color.

 

Sitting beside him was a familiar face- dark red hair, pinned up and curled in an elaborate hairstyle he had never seen his mother even bother to attempt. Even when she had chaperoned the Yule Ball, it had just been left to hang neatly around her shoulders. 

 

She was seated beside another girl in Gryffindor robes, brown hair almost the same shade as her skin. They had their heads bent together, giggling quietly as their fingers brushed against one another in the grass.

 

“What?” Harry asked, confused. This person-- he knew that face. He remembered the ghost from the graveyard, with her curly hair and easy smile. Was this Dorcas Meadowes? Is this why she’d wanted him to pass on a message to his mother?

 

“So how do you think the OWLs went?” The other girl asked conversationally.

 

“Oh, it was easy.” Younger-Lily said breezily. “I’d be surprised if I didn’t get an outstanding.”

 

“I’m serious!” The other girl laughed, shoving at Lily’s shoulder, who joined in. 

 

“Alright, alright.” She giggled. “But really, I’m not that worried. I’m sure you did fine, Dorcas.”

 

Dorcas harrumphed, sitting back in mock annoyance, though she only jerked her hand away from Lily’s when a Hufflepuff student strolled by. They watched him pass with wary eyes, and when he had, Lily let out a quiet sigh.

 

“Sorry.” Dorcas murmured, turning to look at the lake.

 

“It’s fine.” Lily assured her gently. “I understand. I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

 

Dorcas looked at Lily, brushing wild curls from her face. A sad smile wormed its way into her expression, and when she spoke it was in a wistful tone. “Maybe one day, right?” She suggested. “Not right now… But someday. I’ll take you to Diagon Alley for ice cream.”

 

Lily bumped her shoulder against Dorcas’, smiling fondly. “It’s a date.” She murmured happily.

 

“A date?” Okay, now that suspicion was definitely, one hundred percent confirmed. Harry stared at the pair in confusion. But if his mother was with Dorcas, where was his father?

 

Before anything with his teenage mother and her girlfriend could continue, there was a shout from the top of the hill. Harry turned to find the group of boys from earlier had moved- two were standing now, wands drawn. The chubby blonde one was still sitting beside what appeared to be someone trying very hard to remain focused on his book. 

 

“What are you gonna do, Snivellus? Wipe your big nose on us?” Said a handsome boy. His hair fell into his face in a deliberate sort of way that Harry knew his own could never hope to mimic, and with a start he realized that this boy was a younger Sirius Black.

 

Which meant the dark-skinned, wild-haired boy beside him was, of course, his own father. James was the spitting image of Harry, but without Lily’s eyes, and Harry was sure that if he stood next to his father, they would be within an inch of each other’s heights. He seemed to favor square glasses, as opposed to the rounded pair perched on the end of Harry’s nose, and, with a start, Harry realized the glasses his father had on were the same ones he still wore-- just newer. 

 

The boy on the ground, who had obviously been hexed, let out a stream of complicated swearwords that nearly but Ron to shame. He was a skinny, pale thing, with a hooked nose and beady eyes. Greasy black hair fell into his face as he thrashed, attempting to reach for the wand lying in the grass a few feet away.

 

“Wash out your mouth.” James said coldly. “ _ Scourgify! _ ” Pink bubbles suddenly streamed from Snape’s mouth, causing him to gag and spit. 

 

Harry was shocked. His father was the type of person that he couldn’t even imagine hurting another person, with how fiercely he’d tried to keep his children from doing harm at all. He’d always been the one to apologize, when he’d said anything wrong, as far as Harry had seen him. And here he was, washing out someone’s mouth with soap after his friend cursed him. How well did he really know his father? How much of the kind, forgiving man that he’d always known was the truth?

 

Harry stepped back in horror.

 

“Leave him ALONE!” And there was the stern voice he had heard less than an hour ago, now laced with fury. Lily Evans was on her feet, storming towards the Marauders with murder in her eyes. 

 

“All right, Evans?” James tossed her a grin, voice deceptively calm.

 

“Leave him alone.” Lily repeated, staring at the boy with obvious disgust. “What’s he done to you?”

 

“Well, it’s really more that he exists, if you know what I mean.” James said thoughtfully, prompting laughter from several onlookers. Snape hadn’t been popular as a child, either, it seemed. Lupin was still sitting in the grass, mouth pressed into a thin line as he stared resolutely at the book in his hands.

 

“You think you’re so funny,” Lily spat, “but you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”

 

“I will if you go out with me, Evans.” James said quickly. “Go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivellus again.”

 

Behind him, Snape was beginning to inch towards his fallen wand, bubbles still streaming from his mouth.

 

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.” Lily sniffed.

 

“Bad luck, Prongs.” Sirius snickered.

 

There was suddenly a flash of light from where Snape had finally gotten ahold of his wand, and a gash appeared on the side of James’ face, splattering his robes with blood. James whirled about, thrusting his wand out. A moment later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny legs and a pair of graying underpants.

 

Many people in the crowd cheered, including a particularly amused Wormtail. 

 

Lily’s furious expression only grew darker at the noise, and she shouted, “let him down!” 

 

“Certainly.” James shrugged, and suddenly Snape was falling into a crumpled heap in the grass. Disentangling himself from his robes, he quickly got to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, “ _ Petrificus Totalus! _ ” and Snape keeled over again, rigid as a board. 

 

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily roared again, whipping out her own wand and pointing it at Sirius with every intent to use it. 

 

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you.” James said.

 

“Take the curse off him before I blast you into next week.” She said.”

 

James sighed deeply, but turned back and muttered the countercurse. “There you go, then.” He shrugged. “You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus-”

 

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” Snape snapped.

 

There was a tense moment of silence as Lily lowered her wand. When she spoke, it was in a cold voice Harry had never heard her use before. “Fine. I won’t bother in the future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.” 

 

“Apologize!” James roared at Snape, lifting his wand once more. 

 

“Put that down.” She snapped, rounding on him. “You’re just as bad as he is!”

 

“What?” James yelped. “I’d never call you a- a you-know-what!”

 

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you just got off a broomstick, showing off with that stupid snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can! I’m surprised your broom can get off the ground with that fat head of yours on it!” She pointed her own wand at him. “You make me _ sick _ !”

 

She turned on her heel and hurried away, ignoring James’ shouting after her. Harry jogged after her, not wanting to be near his father or Snape any longer than he had to be. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen-- his father and Uncle Sirius, bullies? And Uncle Remus and Peter Pettigrew had just let it happen. The fact that they hadn’t batted an eyelash was almost more concerning. 

 

Lily continued storming through the grass, shaking with anger even as Dorcas stumbled to catch up. “Lily- Lily!”

 

She whirled around, anger blazing fiercely enough that Dorcas stumbled back in surprise. “What?!” She snapped.

 

“I… I just wanted to know if you’re okay.” Dorcas murmured. Lily’s face softened slightly, green eyes shiny with stubbornly unshed tears.

 

“I’m fine.” She said resolutely.

 

“But, Severus-”

 

“Severus made his choice a long time ago.” Lily said firmly. She said something else, as well, but it was warped and drowned out as Harry was suddenly forcefully ejected from the memory. Lily was standing in front of him, pale and shocked.

 

“What-- what was that?” Harry asked. “Were they-- were they really like that?”

 

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” Lily’s voice was strained. “None of that was…”

 

“He’s always telling us not to get in trouble, when really he’s worse than we ever were.” Harry got to his feet. “Amma-”

 

“I’m not talking about this.” Lily snapped. “Go back to your dorm.”

 

“Amma!”

 

“Go!” She shouted, suddenly angry. Harry recoiled at the harsh tone, before turning and storming out into the hall.

  
Before he shut the door behind him, he saw her drop her head into her hands, leaning heavily against her husband’s desk.


	18. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all came back around to who he was, and who his parents were, one way or another. Either his mother’s ancestry or his father’s would get dragged into the argument (or, more often, both), and he would be caught in the middle, trying to make a decision both of them would be proud of without throwing either under the bus. It was a difficult balance to maintain, especially when complete arseholes like Dolores Umbridge walked the earth.
> 
> Alternatively: Harry Potter makes a lot of decisions out of pure spite, and wouldn't you know it, some of them actually work out in his favor.

“So, is telling the truth something we just don’t do anymore?” Harry asked, crossing his arms. He did his best to sound casual, in an effort to throw a good verbal punch, but the effect was ruined by the confused look on his father’s face. He’d never been good at getting these jabs, whether they came from Harry, his mother, or Uncle Sirius-- the poor man mostly just looked like he’d gotten lost whenever anyone tried to pull one over him. That explained a lot about Matt, now that Harry thought about it. His father, grading papers at his desk, looked nothing like the arrogant, smirking miscreant of a boy Harry had seen in his mother’s memories-- age had mellowed out James Potter, given him a certain softness to his features that the boy Harry had seen nearly choke Snape hadn’t had. 

He may look different now, Harry thought, but that’s no reason to believe the heart inside him has changed. There was no reason to go back on the decision he’d made. 

“Excuse me?” James asked, after trying to sort it out in his own head. He’d obviously come up empty, Harry thought, because he looked like someone had just turned his entire room upside down. Harry would know what that expression looked like, because he’d done it, and at the age of seven besides. Uncle Sirius had been so proud of him. Harry grit his teeth. Uncle Sirius’ pride didn’t seem like something he should be wanting, after seeing what kind of person he had been. Were all the adults in Harry’s life hiding secrets like this? “Hari? What’s wrong?”

“Were you planning to just never tell us?” Harry asked. His father’s frown deepened. 

“About what?” James asked calmly, leaning forward slightly in his seat. His head was tilted slightly to the side as he looked over Harry, eyes narrowed. “Hari, look, if this is something I’ve done to make you upset, please just tell me.”

“Look.” Harry said, fighting to keep his voice steady. How dare his father stay this calm? Was he baiting Harry? Did he know exactly what Harry had come to talk about? He didn’t know what to think. “I get that Severus Snape is a miserable, racist blood purist who can’t shake his weird, creepy obsession with Amma. I get it. But that doesn’t justify public humiliation.”

“Oh.” James said, pursing his lips. Was that it? Harry wanted to laugh. He’d known his father was prone to underreacting to situations, but he hadn’t expected this. He looked more like he’d just heard he’d thrown something into the trash instead of the recycling. How dare he? “You’ve seen that, then.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” Harry couldn’t handle it anymore, this obviously artificial calm. His father seemed to be acting as if this was just a normal thing everyone did. Like everyone attempted murder at fifteen, with witnesses everywhere, over a fight that he shouldn’t have started. “Is that all you’ve got? No, ‘oh, yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have nearly choked someone on soap bubbles’, or ‘I should’ve apologized, because that wasn’t right of me to do’! Just ‘you’ve seen that, then’, like you were intending on hiding it from us forever! Like you were going to have us believe that you were some paragon of morality forever!”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His father’s hands clenched around the arms of his chair, and he took a deep breath. In this moment, he looked the picture of calm contemplation, and Harry had never despised him before as much as he did in this moment. “Look. It was a complicated time. What I did was not right. I should not have started that fight, nor should I have started any others. I will freely admit that. But that was one moment. You can’t just change your worldview based on one moment.”

“So you’re going to tell me any other moment would be better?” Harry asked, jaw clenched. “If I just picked a random moment from when you were at Hogwarts, would it be any better than that?”

“No. Not necessarily.” James admitted. He sighed, shaking his head. “We made a lot of bad decisions, the four of us. We did a lot of wrong things, and were convinced we were in the right the whole time, even though we very obviously weren’t. Sirius and Remus will agree with me on that as well. We were a product of the times, back then, and as soon as we knew better, we changed.”

 

It was obviously a well practiced explanation, one he’d delivered many times, and Harry worried for his mother, a new, stronger wave of anger brewing within him. Did he tell her this? His mother, who he’d wronged so badly, deserved a better explanation than “it was just the times, but we’re better now”. She deserved worlds better than this. Harry clenched his hands into fists at his sides. How dare his father pass this off as if it were nothing?

“So you weren’t a shitty enough person to call Amma the m word, and that should be your get out of jail free card?” Harry shot back.   
“Why would I call anyone a word like that?” James asked, through gritted teeth. Harry was suddenly struck by a moment from his childhood, of a man confronting his father, who was holding Anne, over kidnapping a child, and calling him all sorts of horrible words that James had refused to tell Harry the meaning of. It’s better that you don’t know, he’d said, and gotten Harry talking about something else instead. It wasn’t such a mystery after all, that his father hadn’t yelled slurs at people, like Snape had. “Think about it, Hari. Of all people, why would I do that?”

“You wouldn’t.” Harry admitted. “But that was still wrong. You shouldn’t have started it, and you shouldn’t have kept it going. You can call it being a teenager all you want, but you don’t see me bullying other kids.”

“You’re right. I was a shitty person. I was undoubtedly a shitty person. But, at the end of the day, of those five people directly involved in what you saw, three took responsibility for their actions and did their best to make up for what they’d done.” James said, voice shaking. The fog of anger cleared for a second and Harry frowned, this time out of worry. Was his father okay? He never cursed like that. James’ eyes were averted, when before they’d been boring into Harry, and he seemed to be staring intently at the carpet like it would open up and swallow him into the earth, like Sita at the end of the Ramayanam. “And two of them didn’t. Neither Peter nor Snape made any effort to change themselves from who we were at school, and look at where they are now. Snape is still holding a nearly thirty year old grudge, even though he was just as complicit in what we were doing as we were. Peter is serving a racist megalomaniac and trying to murder the three people that cared the most about him and their families.”

“How can you call Snape complicit when you were the ones going after him?” Harry asked. His father’s first point was slowly making its intended impact-- if it really had been one isolated incident, or, as his father was implying, the worst of several bad incidents, then why was he judging him so harshly? Harry brushed away the thought. He didn’t want to excuse his father’s behavior, no matter how much he’d learned, or how long ago it had been. Maybe this was an explanation, but that was the most it was-- nobody should or could write off behavior like this. “It was four of you against one of him, and sure, he was levelling slurs at Amma, but why did you gang up on him like that? You hung him up in the air by his ankles, Appa! That’s completely unjustified! Amma could’ve handled it herself! And she did, just fine!”

“I wouldn’t have learned that spell if it hadn’t been used against me first.” James said quietly, before motioning to the door. The words hit Harry like a truck. “If it hadn’t been used against me first.” Had Snape had a hand in it too? He wasn’t about to ask Snape, nor would he trust any of the other Marauders to give an honest answer, but this made sense. “Please leave.”

“Appa--” Harry began, a rush of concern sweeping through the anger burning in his chest, a bucket of ice cold water poured over the raging flames, but James cut him off, motioning sharply toward the door again.

“Hari, I don’t want to talk right now.” James’ voice was shaking as he stood up, turning his back to Harry. His shoulders were hunched in, like he was trying to make himself smaller, a hard task for a man who, despite Harry’s recent gain in height, stood more than half a foot taller than him. “Please leave. Right now. Thank you.”

“Fine.” Harry walked over to the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Well, that was a disaster.

“Sit down, Mr. Potter”, Professor McGonagall said kindly. Harry sat awkwardly in the chair she pointed to, perched on the edge like a rather brave little bird, about to take flight. If he were a bird, he’d be more likely to fall off the branch head first than fly, if asked at this moment, so he was pretty thankful that he was a human on a chair, because the fall would be minimal and he’d get a scrape or two on his knees at the most. “You aren’t in trouble. I suppose your parents would have told you about the Career Advice sessions all students receive in their fifth year.”

“With all due respect, Professor, Professor Trelawney predicts things for a living and she didn’t tell me about this.” Harry said, cracking a nervous smile, and was rewarded with a quick, although strained smile back from Professor McGonagall. “She’s right there when someone needs to tell me I’ll be dying within the next few weeks, but for useful stuff like appointments, she’s nowhere to be found. Some people’s priorities are just completely out of order.”

“We’re not here to discuss Sybil Trelawney’s career, Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall replied, a faint smile turning the corners of her lips upward. “We’re here to discuss yours.”

“Right.” Harry coughed awkwardly. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he wanted to be when he grew up. To him, growing up felt like it was decades away, and that had pushed all the attendant thoughts-- whether he would pursue any further education beyond Hogwarts and any potential career path-- far out of his head. If he’d known the questions were coming sooner than later, he would’ve thought about it a little more. “Um. I was thinking I’d have a job? That would be nice.”

“You haven’t thought about this at all, have you?” Professor McGonagall asked. Harry could hear the disappointment in her voice, though the neutral expression on her face betrayed nothing of her feelings. Maybe he was inventing it, which was also a distinct possibility, but maybe he wasn’t. “There are many options open to a student of your caliber. Your marks are good across the board, but they would need to be better in some subjects for something along the lines of the Auror Department. You could easily be a Healer, like your mother, with the amount of effort you’re putting in, and, if you consider a Mastery in Defense like your father has, you would be qualified to teach it.” A glint of mischief flashed in her eyes. “I hear that you have a particular gift for that.”

“My dad has a Mastery in Defense?” Harry asked, surprised. Of his parents, his mother had always been the one with her head in her books when he was young. Harry had spent many happy hours sitting on a chair he’d pulled up to her side while she brewed Potions in the room off the entryway that she’d claimed for her laboratory. His father had always been busy with Quidditch during the seasons, and had spent all of his time with Harry and his siblings during the offseasons to give Harry’s mother a break. He couldn’t think of any time his father could have done the work necessary to achieve something this big.

“It took him a lot longer than most students, seeing as he was only available about three months a year, but he did.” Professor McGonagall looked proud, as she spoke. She’d taught his parents when they were here, once upon a time, Harry reminded himself, though he couldn’t imagine how she could have seen the things that his mother had and remained proud of his father. Then again, his mother somehow managed to be proud of his father on a regular basis, a fact which confused Harry before and now utterly mystified him. “After what happened when you were young, he thought it best to be prepared.”

“Yeah.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Any time anyone mentioned Halloween 1981, in his opinion, was one time too many. If it were up to him, he’d like to forget the whole thing-- to erase it from his memory and escape the consequences forever. He was quite sure that the rest of his family felt the same way, so if he ever figured out how, he’d bring it to his parents first.“That sounds like the sort of thing that would do that.”

They fell into an awkward silence, Harry twiddling his thumbs and Professor McGonagall sorting through her papers, and it was with relief that they both looked toward the opening door, before the face revealed turned that relief into nausea and foreboding.

Umbridge strode in, chin high and beady eyes focused on Harry like a predator’s on its prey. Harry, rather unintentionally, cowered in his seat, deciding that planning revenge wasn’t the safest option in this situation.

“What’s this?” She asked, giving off the impression that she knew perfectly well why they were meeting. Professor McGonagall remained silent, so Harry followed her lead. Judging by Umbridge’s soft “ahem”, regardless of the fact that she knew why they were here, she still required an answer.

“Mr. Potter, like every other fifth year, is receiving his Career Advice.” Professor McGonagall said, in a stilted voice. Umbridge’s saccharine smile widened, and Harry was suddenly reminded of the lectures Aunt Petunia gave him as a child over the dangers of too many sweets. If it turned people evil, like it seemed to have with Umbridge, he was certainly going to avoid that in the future. “We have yet to come to a suitable conclusion, however, and your insight might be… valuable.” Judging by Professor McGonagall’s biting tone, it certainly would not, but she knew Umbridge was going to speak whether it was necessary or not.

“Well, you have narrowed your field of options quite a bit with your recent… behavior.” Umbridge said derisively, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Working for the Ministry in any capacity is out of the question, of course. And I doubt Saint Mungo’s background check won’t reveal the Prophet’s articles, even if you do go back on this terrible business you’ve started. Oh well. For half-bloods like you, I suppose the Muggle world is always an option. I suppose your… talents could be useful there.”

“Harry and I were actually discussing the possibility of him becoming a teacher here.” Professor McGonagall fired back, even as Harry sank further back into his seat in horror. The business he started? Was Umbridge really blaming everything on him? If he had known the price tag on telling the truth was this large, he-- well, he would have done it anyway. There was no point in pretending otherwise. He sat up a little straighter in his seat, holding his head high. He wouldn’t let Umbridge win so easily. His parents had raised him better than to run away at the first sign of trouble. Or the thirtieth. “Specifically, of Defense.”

“Oh, so he can train others to fight against the Ministry?” Umbridge’s voice grew high and shrill, and Harry seriously entertained wearing earmuffs everywhere, not for the first time this term. “It’s bad enough that you have his father in charge of these innocent, impressionable minds. Who knows what will become of our world if we keep giving people like them opportunities?”

Harry would have let out a sigh, if he weren’t acutely aware that every move of his was being watched. It all came back around to who he was, and who his parents were, one way or another. Either his mother’s ancestry or his father’s would get dragged into the argument (or, more often, both), and he would be caught in the middle, trying to make a decision both of them would be proud of without throwing either under the bus. It was a difficult balance to maintain, especially when complete arseholes like Dolores Umbridge walked the earth.

“I’m sure Harry wouldn’t train others to fight against the Ministry, Dolores.” Professor McGonagall said, taking Umbridge’s sickly sweet speech for a turn. “Just people who demonize him for personal gain. Which is obviously not what you’re doing.”

“Personal gain--” Umbridge spluttered indignantly, a furious expression on her face. “Be careful, Minerva-- you might go the way Trelawney did, if you don’t watch how you speak to me.”

“Living here and not having to teach?” Professor McGonagall asked, before smiling at Harry. “It sounds ideal.”

“I would not stand for that.” Umbridge declared haughtily.

“You might not, but Dumbledore would.” Professor McGonagall said. “And you won’t be Headmistress for long, if he has any say about it.”

Umbridge harrumphed before stomping out of the room, the effort ruined by Professor McGonagall shutting the door so hard that it pushed her through the doorway with a flick of her wand.

“So, Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall said, taking a sip of her tea. “Any career interests after that interruption?”

“Yeah.” Harry grinned. “Whatever Umbridge is doing. What is that?”

“As Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, she mostly takes care of a lot of legal business that the Minister does not have time for. Attends meetings and the like.” Professor McGonagall said. “Personally, I would advise against the Ministry for you. After this, they are bound to make it difficult for you.”

“Fine.” Harry shrugged. “Then I’ll sue them.” He said it like a joke, but the more he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded. Arguments had always been easy for him, and he’d enjoyed the few debates they’d done in primary school. Maybe that was the right path for him. Harry smiled, leaning forward in his seat. “How would I go about studying law?”

“So I’ve heard you had quite the Occlumency lesson last night.” James said, sitting down on the couch next to Lily, who was staring vacantly into the fireplace. A good walk around the grounds before coming home had cleared his head, and he was regretting falling asleep early the night before-- he would’ve noticed something wrong was afoot if he’d been awake when his wife came home yesterday, for sure. “Need to talk about it?”

“He’s grounded.” She said, drawing her legs up onto the couch with her. James nodded in agreement. “He shouldn’t have gone to you about it.”

“Well, he’s done a lot of things he shouldn’t do.” James said, fidgeting uncomfortably. He wanted to reach out, to gather her into a hug, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that that might complicate things further. He decided against it at the last second, keeping his hands folded in his lap. He would follow her lead. “Given the family track record, it’s not the worst he could’ve done.”

“Oh great, now everyone gets to dwell on it.” She grumbled, placing her chin against the tops of her knees. “Might as well call up Severus for some heart-to-heart reminiscing.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll happen on its own.” James said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “He’ll crawl back into our lives and probably try to kill somebody we love again. He can have Sirius. I’m not talking to him right now.” 

“What is it this week?” Lily asked.

“He told me black wasn’t a color.” James frowned. “But it is. It’s in all those books you use to teach babies about colors!” He crossed his arms, a petulant frown on his face. “I should know. I’ve read a lot of those.” He paused for a second. “Not like that. I did not mean it like that.”

“It isn’t a color. A black object absorbs all the colors of the light spectrum and reflects none of them to the eyes.” Lily rubbed at the bridge of her nose, though her voice was lighter than before. “Didn’t you go to muggle school?”

“Et tu, Brutus?” James sighed. “Look. Back to what we’re avoiding. My opinion on what happened is pretty unnecessary. We’ve had that conversation already. What do you need? I won’t fight our child for you, because I’m a little bit afraid that he’d win, but I will go up to that point with minimal convincing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She said. “I’ll deal with it. I doubt he wants to hear much of anything from you, right now.”

“To be honest, I’m not really in the mood for talking to him either.” James shrugged. “I told him what was in my head, and that’s that, as far as I’m concerned. Better start early with the next one.”

“I’m pretty sure Charu already hates us without any added motivation.” Lily reasoned. 

“I leave my socks on the floor one time.” James whined. His older daughter’s standards for cleanliness went far beyond reasonable and bordered on worrying. He despaired of the day she imposed those standards on someone who wasn’t tied to her by blood, and therefore not required to comply. “One time, and she decides she’s going to hate me for the rest of her life! How is that sustainable?”

“Just wait till she starts dating.” Lily sighed.

“Okay, okay, back to where we were.” James waved his hands around wildly, as if he were attempting to get a car to stop before it crushed him. “This is your story. You talking to him first is best. I’m with you on that, okay?”

“There isn’t much to tell.” Lily blew a sharp breath through her nose, an early warning sign of the Evans temper rearing its head. “It happened, it’s over, we’re married. Done and done.”

“Well done.” James grinned. He quickly backtracked, realizing now was not the time for jokes, upon a second glance at Lily’s face. “Alright, alright, that’s over with, I’ll stop. Our son’s a ball of drama right now, though, just like his father, so something has to be said eventually. If we’re allowed to use sports metaphors--”

“No we are not.” Lily said, turning to glare at her husband. “I made you sign a contract when we got married- I will get it out!”

“If we’re allowed to use sports metaphors--” James continued on bravely, raising his voice in the hopes that he might drown her out.

“I will shut your mouth for you if you keep talking.” Lily growled, and James swallowed hard, looking terrified. 

“Never mind. No sports metaphors.” James said, after a few seconds to collect himself. He chuckled nervously before continuing on. “It’s your call is all. Now, thanks to actual maturing as a person, you have a wonderful husband who is completely free to offer affection and completely unnecessary small talk until the demons we call children demand their next feeding. Take it or leave it.”

“Dunno.” Lily shook her head. “I’m sorry, James, I just… there’s a difference between remembering something and reliving it, I guess.”

“Yeah.” James nodded. “I can only imagine. I’ll… I’ll leave you to it, alright? I’ll handle the other stuff tonight. You take your time.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She offered a tired smile. “Love you.”

“Love you more.” James smiled back. “I think the fact that I grew into my head helped.”

“No, it was just the ears.” Lily corrected him. “Your head is the same size.”

“You never said anything about the ears.” James said. “It was part of my charm back then, I guess.”

“What charm?” Lily asked.

“You’re the one that married me.” James smiled. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m honestly not sure. I almost broke up with you when you cried at your bachelor’s party.” Lily told him.

“Sirius put a lot of pressure on me, okay?” James pouted. “I didn’t wanna be there. You’re lucky I left early, you know. Judging by what Sirius looked like the next day, I don’t want to know what happened after I left.”

“You left at nine. You left Sirius alone at a party. Anything could have happened.”

“Yeah.” James shuddered. “A lot. I left him alone once. It was terrible.”

“Never again.” Lily agreed.

“If we leave again, we're taking him with us.” James said. “I’m not leaving him behind again. Not after… Not after what it was like last time.”

“Nah, we can just hire a babysitter.”

“We've run through all of those in Britain.” James sighed, running a hand through his hair. In their teenage years, it had often been his responsibility to keep Sirius well occupied, because a bored Sirius was a Sirius who sought out danger with reckless abandon. Once James had gotten married and the kids had been born, the responsibility had fallen to Remus. They’d given up hope, by this point, in the fact that Sirius was ever going to grow up. “No one's going to take him. If we pretend he's a dog, do you think we might be able to fool one of those animal places?”

“Can we afford a kennel?” Lily asked.

“That's the good part of having money, I guess.” James joked. “We can hide him wherever we want.”

“Ron.” Harry declared solemnly, taking his best friend’s hands in his. “We have something important to tell you. Something that will change the course of our lives, that will alter our futures beyond recognition.”

“Again?” Ron looked more exhausted than anything else. “What the bloody hell is it now?”

“Hagrid’s little brother is taller than he is.”

“You’re a real drama queen, you know that?” Ron rolled his eyes. “Not everything in our lives has to be dangerous.”

“But isn’t it relaxing when it is?” Harry asked. “I mean, maybe not dangerous stuff, but this is nice.”

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but giants are dangerous.” Ron shifted uncomfortably. “They fought with You-Know-Who during the first war…”

“Grawp’s fine.” Harry said, with a wave of his hand. “He’s just handsy.”

“He’s also almost twice Hagrid’s height and unaware of his strength, so make of that what you will.” Hermione added. “I can’t imagine the centaurs are too happy about that.”

“Centaurs are rarely happy about anything.” Ron shrugged. “Did you know they actually petitioned the Ministry to change their official status to ‘beasts’? They aren’t exactly a friendly lot.”

“That can’t be good.” Harry winced.

“Not good doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Hermione sighed. “This isn’t going to end well at all.”

“Maybe we can throw Umbridge to the centaurs.” Harry suggested. “They might like that. I mean, if they’re territorial, and we just chuck her in there, she’ll have intruded.”

“That’s exploitative of another species, Harry.” Hermione said. “You can’t just use them like pawns in your plan.”

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed those weird little knitting projects you’ve been leaving around.” Harry countered. Hermione had been leaving little knitted socks and hats around the Gryffindor common room over the last few weeks, and they were now collecting dust, as the house elves did not dare to touch them. Harry was privately convinced that Dobby was taking the few that had gone missing, and was likely wearing them all. “You’re not one to talk.”

“They’re being forced into servitude against their will, Harry.” Hermione said, annoyance creeping into her voice. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to free them!”

“I don’t think that. I just would rather give them the choice, you know?” Harry said. “This is just springing it on them and giving them no choice in the matter, you know? They should be able to make the choice for themselves.”

“You have a point.” Hermione said, averting her eyes. “It’s just… a touchy issue.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “For sure. Hey, add that to your list of things you’re going to do when you’re the Minister. Rehabilitate the house elves who want to be freed safely.”

“That is list worthy.” Hermione agreed.

“You have a list?” Ron said in exasperation. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Hermione asked.

“Bloody hell.” Ron groaned, sitting back in his armchair with a sigh.

Harry sighed. He really needed to make better friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schedules have gotten crazy, folks, but, god willing, we're back. No promises about getting back to regular updates immediately (Lai's schedule is super duper busy, and I need to figure out how school's going to work), but we'll try our bests to find some sort of a regular schedule to settle into soon. This chapter's been in the works for a long time, and we hope that we've done a good job of carrying the plot forward from that cliff we left you on a couple weeks ago.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, and we hope to see you again soon! 
> 
> -S&L


	19. Finals Week Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing that wasn’t nefarious happened this late at night. Or this early in the morning. To be quite honest, he wasn’t really sure what time it was, just that it was simultaneously too late and too early for anything important to be happening. Which, with his luck, meant that something was absolutely bound to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> We're definitely back this time, and with a nearly 5k long chapter as our apology. We promise. We've worked out a schedule and it's happening. 
> 
> This week, you're getting more Golden Trio (yay!), more Sarah and Kyung, or as we're affectionately calling them, Salt Squad (yay!) and more Umbridge approved violence (boo). Two pros and a con? 
> 
> Next week should be a bit worse, but we're saying that without looking at our chapter plans, so don't be 100% confident on that. It may just be marginally worse, or it may be leaps and bounds worse. Regardless, don't worry, it'll be over soon-- according to the plans, there are only four more chapters after this one in ROTR. We're in the home stretch!
> 
> We're excited to see you again, and hopefully we'll be back next Friday! 
> 
> -S&L

“I can’t even fill in a star chart during the day.” Harry rubbed at his tired eyes, feeling like his head was full of fuzz. He had never been the best at Astronomy, but the timing just made him even worse. Harry thought that if Astronomy were possible during the day, it might be a little better. It was quite a shame that it wasn’t. “How am I supposed to fill in a star chart at night?”

“You’ve been taking Astronomy at night for five years now.” Hermione whispered, glancing furtively over at the exam proctor. “How are you only realizing this now?”

“How would we fill in a star chart during the day?” Ron mumbled, his eye practically glued to the lens of his telescope.

“Very carefully.” Harry grinned, drawing Uranus somewhere he thought it probably shouldn’t be. Oh well. He was expecting a Troll on this, and so were his parents, so nothing was at risk. They’d made their position clear-- as long as he passed the subjects that he was planning to pursue in a future career, he was above water.

He leaned back in, momentarily bemoaning the way his glasses awkwardly bumped against the lense of his telescope. They were nearing the end of the exam and his star chart was only two-thirds of the way filled out. Perhaps he might have gotten close to finishing it, if he hadn’t been distracted by the main entrance to the school opening wide. Light spilled out from the open doors, broken by six elongated shadows. Harry glanced downwards, frowning slightly.

Nothing that wasn’t nefarious happened this late at night. Or this early in the morning. To be quite honest, he wasn’t really sure what time it was, just that it was simultaneously too late and too early for anything important to be happening. Which, with his luck, meant that something was absolutely bound to happen.

The group of six exiting the castle was being led by a familiar squat figure. She was beating a quick pace across the grounds, the moonlight illuminating the pink cloak draped across her shoulders. Harry couldn’t imagine she was going for a harmless stroll, this late at night, and certainly not accompanied by so many other people.

Harry, having entirely forgotten about the unfinished star chart in front of him, readjusted his telescope in order to watch the group’s progress across the lawn. They stopped after a few minutes, directly in front of Hagrid’s cabin. It was just close enough that Harry could make out Fang’s loud barking as the lights switched on inside.

Hagrid’s lumbering figure appeared in the doorway a moment later, and the six figures disappeared inside of the hut. Why was she going to talk to Hagrid? What reason did she have to talk to him?

Harry jumped when a loud BANG resounded across the ground. Several students let out exclamations of pain as they jabbed their eyes against their telescopes.

Hagrid had burst from his hut, light spilling out onto the grass once again. He was swinging wildly, surrounded by the five figures who had accompanied Umbridge. Based on the red lights flashing wildly from the ends of their wands, they seemed to be trying to stun Hagrid.

“No!” cried Hermione.

“My dear!” The examiner gasped loudly. “This is an examination!”

Despite the examiner’s words, it was apparent that no one was paying attention to their star charts. Jets of red light were still flying around Hagrid’s cabin, though somehow they seemed to be bouncing off of him. He didn’t seem particularly affected, as he was still roaring and shouting at the figures. Fang was barking loudly, snapping at the wizards attempting to subdue his owner. He continued leaping at them until he was hit by a stunning spell and he fell limply to the ground.

Hagrid gave a howl of fury and lifted the culprit from the ground. He threw him, causing the man to sail through the air quite a distance before landing loudly. He did not get back up.

Ron leaned forward, looking quite scared. None of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before…

“Look!” Parvati shouted, pointing towards the entrance of the castle, which had flown open again.

“It’s Professor McGonagall!” Hermione gasped.

She was right. McGonagall was sprinting towards the chaos, her tartan robes whipping around her in the wind.

“How dare you!” She shouted. “Leave him alone! He has done nothing to warrant such treatment! On what grounds are you attacking-?!”

Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender all let out horrified screams as McGonagall was cut off. No fewer than four stunning spells had been shot by the figures around the cabin. For a moment, she was illuminated by the red light, her eyes wide with shock before she was lifted from her feet. She landed hard on her back, and did not move again.

“COWARDS!” bellowed Hagrid. Hagrid took two massive swings at his attackers, knocking them out cold.

“What are you waiting for?” Umbridge roared. “Get him!”

Hagrid picked Fang up from the ground, draping him over his massive shoulders as he began sprinting towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The exam improbably drew to an end, and Harry turned in his star chart with a foreboding feeling that had little, well, maybe more than a little, to do with the exam itself.

“Well, that’s over.” He said, mind still on Hagrid, as they trudged down to the common room, bone tired and in need of much more sleep than Hermione had budgeted into their exam week schedule.

“Are we going to ignore what just happened?” Ron stared at Harry, a mixture of shock and fear overtaking his features. The other Gryffindors milling around them were all whispering in horror, as though they were scared of being overheard by someone.

“No, we’re not.” Harry shook his head resolutely. “We just don’t know what happened.” He looked around the room, but no one volunteered any information.” He shrugged. “If this is anything like second year… I have a feeling we might not be seeing Hagrid again for awhile. And in that case…” Harry looked to Hermione, and the stony set of her face was proof enough that she’d come to the same conclusion as him, and long before he had.

They were most probably stuck with Grawp.

“I heard he was putting Nifflers in her office.” Lavender Brown spoke up, from her seat on the arm of the chair Parvati Patil, who was sound asleep, was currently sprawled across. “Or that she thinks so, at least.”

“Shit.” Lee Jordan swore passionately, stopping in his tracks. “That was me. George left some behind when the twins left, so I’ve been levitating them in through her window…”

“I’d say you got him fired, but it looks like she was looking for any sort of excuse.” Ron winced.

“Hagrid’s been improving!” Hermione said. “He’s been planning ahead and making sure his lessons are age appropriate…”

“I think… I think I’m gonna go see if Professor McGonagall is down in the hospital wing.” Colin Creevey suddenly spoke up, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his camera. “She took four stunners straight to the chest, and she… she isn’t exactly young, is she?”

“She taught my parents.” Harry said, the real depth of what had happened hitting him square in the face, like Anne often did when he was being stupid. “Definitely too old to take four stunners well.”

“McGonagall might be, well, McGonagall, but I don’t think anyone can take four stunners to the chest well.” Ron pointed out. Colin seemed to silently agree with him, as he immediately started hurrying for the portrait hole.

“Well, we’ve got to hope she’ll manage.” Harry said, sinking into an empty armchair. “If we lose her, then Umbridge will really send this place to hell.”

“I know exam week sucks,” Lee sank into the last free armchair, head in his hands, “but this is a bit much.”

* * *

“Two more exams, and then we’ll be second years.” Sarah said, shutting her Potions book with a loud thump. She was more than frustrated with the subject, but she couldn’t drop it until at least fifth year, and wasn’t sure that she would, even then. It was less the subject that frustrated her and more the professor-- Snape’s teaching methods struck her as immensely biased and unfair, and she was thankful to be in Ravenclaw solely because she’d heard horror stories from her brother about how much worse the Gryffindor classes were. “I’m ready to be home.”

“That makes one of us.” Kyung stared resolutely at his potions textbook, despite the fact that Sarah could tell his eyes weren’t moving. It seemed to be more about the principle of the matter. “I’ll have to keep my sister from murdering me all summer.”

“You’ll be dealing with her year round again from the minute you leave the school, so I understand why you’d want to stay.” Sarah laughed.

He let out a groan, shoving a hand through his overgrown hair so that it stood up in awkward spikes. “I imagine you are not looking forward to dealing with your sister, either?”

“If I’m lucky, she’ll do something worthy of a grounding within the next few days, and I can hide out at my uncles’ for as long as I can manage.” Sarah said. She’d obviously given a lot of thought to this plan, from the confidence in her voice. “Uncle Remus will hide me.”

“Your parents will probably notice you are gone.” He pointed out, finally looking up. He seemed to be running himself into the ground, but there was humor in his bloodshot eyes.

“Hardly likely.” Sarah shook her head. “They still have to count us off in order to make sure we’re all there. Sometimes they end up arguing about the order and forget where they were in it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why my parents stopped at two children, but then I remember your life and I’m glad.” He deadpanned.

“To be fair, my parents did try to stop at two children.” Sarah allowed. “It just didn’t work out too well.”

“I feel as though a small amount of self-restraint might have benefitted them.” He leaned back, shoulder bumping into the edge of a bookshelf. All of the seats had been occupied by frantically studying Ravenclaws when they had entered the common room, so the pair had sprawled out across the floor.

“Agreed.” Sarah nodded. “And now we’ll have four Sortings to worry about in the fall.” Her cheerful smile faded, replaced by something more pensive. “That’s bound to be trouble.”

“So long as none of them are in Ravenclaw, and they aren’t all in the same house? I think we can manage.” Kyung hummed.

“We won’t have to worry about Ravenclaws.” Sarah said. “You’re sure Shin-ji will get sorted into Slytherin, and I’ll take your word for it. I doubt the hat will even touch my sister’s head before putting her in Gryffindor, and the same goes for Drew. It’s Matt I’m worried about.” She tapped her fingers on the floor nervously. “The triplets have never been separated for more than a couple hours before, and never by anything as final as being in different houses. That could pose a huge problem. Matt especially is a little... sensitive about those things.”

“Sensitive?” Kyung tilted his head to the side.

“It was a strange time for our family, until Matt developed object permanence.” Sarah sighed. “I don’t remember it, thankfully, but according to Harry’s accounts, he’d start wailing whenever either of my parents left the room, because he was convinced they didn’t exist anymore if he couldn’t see them.” She smiled ruefully. “He’s always been a worrier, and, with Hogwarts on the path to becoming wizard military school, I’m wondering if it’s wise for him to come here at all.”

“Wizard military school seems a bit… mild.” Kyung didn’t seem concerned. “My mother refers to it as the white prison school. I’m not sure she agreed with father when it came to sending us to a boarding school.”

Sarah laughed, hiding her mouth with her hand. “Does she really?”

“It’s the cause of many arguments.” He laughed. “Father thinks she’s sabotaging our respect for Hogwarts.”

“There’s not much to respect.” Sarah said. Between Umbridge’s disaster of a term as headmistress, which Sarah was hoping ended with the school year, and the increasing intrusion of the Ministry into her family’s lives, she was slowly finding that she’d much rather return to Muggle school and run the attendant risks than return for a second year at Hogwarts. The only thing tipping the balance toward Hogwarts was Kyung. “She’s not in the wrong, if she’s doing so.”

“I think they just like to argue for the experience.” Kyung shrugged. “But for once, they’re actually bickering about something important-- I think they would stop if they were taking it seriously.”

“My parents are the same way.” Sarah nodded. “They’ve been quieter lately, though. What with all that’s happening. At least the papers have let up, for now.” She kicked at the leg of the table. “Harry seems happier. He deserves a break.”

“Too much.” Kyung agreed, seemingly at a loss for words. A long moment of silence stretched between them while he seemed to struggle with himself. “I feel like… something is going to happen.”

“Welcome to lesson one of hanging around the Potter family, Kyung.” Sarah smiled, but there was a bitter edge to it. “Something bad’s always just around the corner.”

“You should have warned me before I sat next to you in Potions.”

“It’s hard to warn someone before they talk to you.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice no one had taken that seat for a reason.”

She didn’t like thinking back to the first few weeks of the school year, when everyone had avoided her because of the articles about her brother. Not that the rest of her house was particularly chummy with her now. The few that had joined the DA had taken her aside and apologized for making her feel unwelcome those first few weeks, and she’d accepted their apologies, as it didn’t stink of her brother’s meddling hands enough to be fully untrue. That was still a minority, and among the first years especially, Sarah was neither the most popular nor very popular at all.

He shrugged. “I thought maybe you were bad at talking to people.” He said, tilting his head back against the bookshelf. Slowly, a teasing grin split across his face. “Though, now I see the problem is that you never stop talking.”

“Be careful. You haven’t got too many friends.” Sarah teased. “And, unlike me, you haven’t got many prospects.”

“I did not realize you were so popular.” He raised an eyebrow. “Please, tell me about these other prospects. I am honored you are spending your time with me, if you have so many options.”

“Choosing the most beneficial option is the smart path.” Sarah said casually. “Sticking with that rule is how I ended up here.”

“Ah, so I am beneficial.” He chuckled. “Making good connections for your future?”

“I’m guessing that’s mutual.” Sarah smiled. “Someone’s got to remind you what words are in English at three in the morning.”

“I had not slept in two days.” Kyung sighed. “I was most likely having an experience outside of my body. You are not allowed to hold it against me.”

“Who said I was holding it against you?” Sarah laughed. “Holding it against you would mean there was disgust or hard feelings there. I’m just reminding you it happened whenever you forget.”

“English might not be my first language, but I am entirely certain that that is exactly the definition of holding something against me.” He shot back, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You say that as if English is mine.” Sarah snorted.

“You were born here, I thought?” Kyung finally decided to close the textbook he’d all but forgotten in his lap.

“I was.” Sarah said. Her inability (or, as her father had always suspected, refusal) to speak English had been quite a problem during her first few years-- she’d refused to speak anything other than Tamil until attending school had made it necessary, and her mother often credited Sarah with throwing her headlong into learning Tamil so she could keep up. Sarah privately thought that was one of her better accomplishments. “We don’t speak English much at home unless my mother is around. She understands well enough even when we don’t these days.”

“Oh.” Kyung seemed surprised by this information, but after a moment he nodded. “That makes sense. We only speak Korean at home, so I suppose when I have children I will speak that to them as well… I hadn’t really thought about it. I am sorry.”

“Oh. It’s fine.” Sarah shifted awkwardly, resting her chin in her sweaty palm. “It wasn’t wrong of you to assume. I know that’s true of a lot of people here.”

“More out of necessity than anything.” Kyung rubbed a thumb over the corner of his book. “My parents spoke English at home, when we first moved here. I think it was to allow Shin-ji and I to grow more familiar with the language, since we only knew the basics before.”

“It makes sense. It’s a tough language to learn. Doesn’t make sense half the time, according to my father.” Sarah nodded. “It was assumed that we’d pick up English at some point-- my mother speaks it exclusively, and so does her family, though we don’t speak to them often.” She frowned, nose wrinkling in disgust. “They’re not the sort of people anyone likes being around.”

“My mother says… Ah, it makes little sense in English, ironically.” Kyung laughed, a hand pressed to his mouth. “English is a language that rifles through other language’s pockets, and then attempts to buy sense with all the different currencies it has found.”

“Your mother sounds hilarious.” Sarah grinned.

“She is an amusing woman.” He laughed. “She often forces my father to debate with her for practice, even though he is terrible at is.”

“How does that turn out?” Sarah asked. “From what you’ve said, your father isn’t really one for debates.”

“He got used to it, I think.” Kyung shrugged. “He picks… very odd counter-arguments, and mother does her best. She says it prepares her for any type of questioning.”

“Odd counter arguments are often the best preparation.” Sarah said. “Better than those devil’s advocate types. Ravenclaw’s full of them.”

“As is Shin-ji. I think she does it to annoy me.” He shook his head. “I can never tell whether she means what she says or not.”

“At least it makes it easier to lose points for this lot.” Sarah laughed. “Who’s ahead? You or me?”

“I think I am, after our last potions class. Do you still have the score sheet?” He hummed.

“Yes, it should be--” Sarah paused to think. “It should be in my room, upstairs. Never mind. I suppose I don’t have it. ”

“Ah, well.” Kyung didn’t seem too bothered. “We can always check tomorrow.”

“Everything’s been a bit busy today.” Sarah sighed. “I don’t think I told you-- I was meaning to earlier, but I forgot. Anne’s gone and given the rest of the triplets Vanishing Sickness. My mother’s said I’m not to tell Harry so long as his exams are going on, but I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just go ahead and do it.”

“Vanishing Sickness?”

“It makes your limbs disappear. It’s contagious, starts with a bug bite and just balloons outward from there.” Sarah said. “So, of course, Anne’s been spreading it to the boys out of sheer spite. Dragged Drew along with her to go ‘exploring’ where she’d been bitten, and forced Matt to come along.”

Kyung stared blankly at Sarah for a long moment. “I have a feeling that Shin-ji and Anne should never meet, under any circumstances.”

“I have a feeling they will.” Sarah said. “My mother keeps talking about something called Murphy’s Law.”

“Is Murphy an actual government official in charge of laws, or is that another idiom?” Kyung asked. He was very bad at spotting idioms, something Sarah often made fun of him for. Of course, that trapped them in an endless cycle of idiom usage and confusion, but it made for a reliable time waster when homework didn’t seem doable and procrastination seemed to be the better option.

“It’s a Muggle concept which says that anything that can possibly go wrong definitely will.” Sarah clarified. “If Murphy was in charge of Wizarding law, I’d say it would go just about as well as if my brother was.”

“I cannot imagine your brother ever becoming a lawyer. Maybe you, though.” Kyung seemed to mull the concept over. “I am not sure how well you would do with clients you did not enjoy.”

“I don’t think I’d do well with clients of any kind.” Sarah shrugged. “Maybe I’ll have another opinion, by fifth year. And we’ll know what Harry’s planning soon enough-- once his results come out in August, he’ll know what’s possible and what’s not, but judging by his sudden attempt to care about History of Magic and my mother’s evasive answer when I asked her, I’m guessing he is actually pursuing law.”

Kyung let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, well now I feel a bit awkward for having said that.” He admitted. “I am sure he will work hard, if he actually means to get there.”

“I still stand by my original judgment, but maybe he’ll surprise me.” Sarah said. “He seems awful fond of doing that lately. I suppose that’s what siblings are for.”

“As long as it is the good sort of surprise.” Kyung hummed thoughtfully.

“Let’s hope none of ours have any more of the bad sort up their sleeves.” Sarah said.

“We go to white prison school.” Kyung said seriously. “The bad sort is up everyone’s sleeves.”

* * *

History of Magic had never been Harry’s best subject, or even one of his average subjects.

It had always hovered near the bottom of his grades, barely beaten out for last place by Divination, which Harry was privately convinced he wouldn’t pass unless he flat out died and confirmed every prophecy Trelawney had made about him for the past two years. Now, with a teacher that actually cared, there was no chance. Good thing he was planning to drop Divination after OWLs, no matter what result he achieved.

He’d been informed, unfortunately, that he’d need to keep History of Magic through NEWTs, where they’d focus more in depth on the ins and outs of Wizarding law, if he wanted to pursue a career in it, which had resulted in a last minute dedication to his studies that had impressed even Hermione. She’d gone through flashcards with him until early in the morning, glad to have someone as invested in the subject as she was, while Ron scribbled out increasingly ridiculous quidditch maneuvers nearby. Harry privately envied Ron, who he knew was going to drop the subject, and had taken to catching up on his sleep in class.

Thanks to the study session, and the letter full of tips from his mother, he felt confident for once, while standing outside the exam room. He felt like he knew what he was doing for once, even if he didn’t have much to compare that feeling against-- he’d never done too well on a History of Magic exam before. Maybe this would be a first. He took a deep breath to calm himself, flashed a grin at Ron and Hermione, who were standing beside him, and rushed in alongside everyone else when the doors opened.

And when the question were charmed visible, he found himself surprised again. He knew these things! He knew the answers and the dates and the implications for once, and he knew them well. Maybe this was something he would enjoy doing with his life. Maybe it really had been just Binns making it boring all along-- once he’d found a way to make it interesting for himself, he’d sped through the material, and apparently he’d actually retained it as well. He marked down answers quicker than he ever had on an exam that wasn’t for Defense (or Divination, but his speed there was more due to a profound lack of care about the outcome).

“The Giant Wars were yet another example of a conflict instigated by a lack of mutual understanding between Wizards and Giants”, Harry whispered to himself as he scribbled the words down. “If either party had shown a vested interest in the negotiations about Wizards opening trade routes through Giant territory without permission coming to a positive conclusion, or had found a channel of communication that neither found repugnant, the conflict itself could have been avoided, along with the deaths suffered on both sides. Avoidance of these casualties might also have improved Ministry of Magic-Giant Council relations to the point that the Giants might have taken the side of the Light rather than so easily being convinced to join the Dark side during the First War.”

Uncle Frank, who he’d owled at the last minute, had given advice about the essays was coming in handy-- for a war, cite a battle, talk about the importance of negotiations, put in a possible future implication, and mention how many deaths could have been avoided. The focus on negotiation would buy you points with the examiners even if you had little to nothing of substance in the answer at all. Uncle Frank would know-- he’d gotten an Outstanding on his History of Magic OWL. He’d also sent along some plant food for Spike, who Harry had completely forgotten about.

He’d think about that after the exam time was up.

Around the third of five essays, the exhaustion began to set in. He’d stayed up too late last night, trying to cram as much knowledge into his head as possible, but he slogged through it, answering a question about the impact of the witch hunts, though attempts at burning trained wizards were ineffective and laughable at best, with as much of his mother’s rants about the medical knowledge that had been lost to wizards and Muggles alike as he could remember. After jotting down a few hopefully coherent lines about how wand legislation definitely contributed to the eighteenth century goblin rebellions by making nonhuman magical populations feel inferior to human wizards, Harry moved his paper aside to let the ink dry and lay his head down.

That, as he’d realize later, was likely his first mistake.

As soon as he’d shut his eyes, he was in the same corridor that he’d found Mr. Weasley in months before, except this time, the door at the end wasn’t locked. The knob felt solid and cold under his fingers, and the door swung open at his touch, revealing a room full of translucent glass spheres. It looked like smoke was swirling inside them, piquing Harry’s curiosity. Who would waste their time making weird smoke balls out of glass?

A black shape came up beside him and Harry frowned. Did he know them? Who was this?

Harry felt his hand fly up to point at one sphere in particular and his breath caught in his chest. The hand before him was bony and sickly white, too thin and pale to be Harry’s own. Before the voice came out of his mouth, he knew who he was.

“Get it down.” He said, in Voldemort’s voice, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach, pointing Voldemort’s wand toward the shape. “Get it down.”

“No!” yelled a voice that Harry knew well. It was a voice that had sung him to sleep on nights when his parents were out, a voice that had told him jokes while he cried over scrapes he’d acquired on the playground, a voice that had told him bedtime stories.

It was Sirius Black’s voice.

“I would die first!” Sirius Black hissed through gritted teeth.

Harry felt Voldemort smile. “Not yet, Sirius Black. Not yet.”

Harry came back to himself suddenly, opening bleary eyes to find the examiner standing beside his chair. He blinked slowly, before nodding when asked if he was done with his exam.

“Get some sleep, boy.” The examiner said gruffly, letting him arrange his papers in the right order before handing them over. “You look absolutely dreadful.”

“Yeah.” Harry said. It was going to be now, then, when he faced Voldemort again. Not a single bone in his body was ready, but with Uncle Sirius on the line, he couldn’t dare waiting a second more than he had to. “Sleep. That’s what I need to get.”


	20. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s… got your name on it.” Ron said, pointing up at one of the dusty orbs.
> 
> “My name?” Harry asked, confused. “Why would someone put my name on a ball?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Readers,
> 
> We're sorry. For a multitude of reasons, namely the cliffhanger you're about to get hit with, but don't let us scare you away from reading! This is a nearly 5.5k word long monster to make up for our recent absences, and there will absolutely be an update next week, because the chapter's already half written! :)
> 
> As always, leave comments and come talk to us on tumblr about this week's serving of drama, fun facts about any of the characters, or anything else you can come up with! The triplets'll be taking a big role in Book Six (which we'll hopefully get moving on in early November), so if you want a sneak peek at what you're doing-- Lai's your best bet! 
> 
> -S&L

“Oh, good, you showed up.” Sarah, who had been waiting outside the door to their father’s office, frowned impatiently as Harry jogged up. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.”

“Give it a rest, alright?” Harry grumbled. He didn’t even try to look apologetic, partly because he knew Sarah would see right through it. He wasn’t in the mood to give her any more reasons to yell than she already had. “I was working on something.”

“What, your latest plot to save the world?” Sarah scoffed, rolling her eyes. Thankfully, as always, she read an answer from Harry’s silence. Perhaps not so thankfully, as her expression darkened further. “You aren’t.” She exclaimed. “You can’t. Amma and Appa are going to kill you if you do anything. They’ve already got enough happening with the triplets, and--”

“What’s happened to the triplets?” Harry asked, eyes wide. If the triplets were hurt, that meant something had happened at home-- had Voldemort made a move there? If he was targeting Sirius, it made sense to go after the children as well. A line from his History of Magic text popped into his head, making him uncomfortably scared-- “the best way to demoralize an opposing force is to capture unexpectedly what they hold dear”. Wasn’t that what was happening? “Are they okay?” He stuttered out. “Is-- Did anybody get near them?”

A queasy feeling was building in his stomach, and it faded slightly when Sarah shook her head, eyebrows furrowing as she looked him over. His sister had a way of terrifying people without trying, a gift from his mother’s genes that had passed over Harry himself, and she was doing an excellent job of it right now, seeing as her silence only served to scare him further.

“Well, if you count Anne as someone, sure, someone did.” Sarah sighed. Harry felt like he was drowning in relief, like the whole world had righted itself, though he could feel the memory of Sirius’ yell etched into him, holding him tight in its grip. “She gave the boys Vanishing Sickness, so Amma and Appa are at Saint Mungo’s trying to get that handled. I was wondering why you’d chosen to meet at his office, but then I remembered I’d forgotten to tell you he wouldn’t be here.”

“That-- That’s good, that makes things a little easier.” Harry nodded. If his father wasn’t here, that was one of his worries taken care of-- if he’d even been in the vicinity of Hogwarts when Harry’s plan came to fruition, James Potter would’ve been blamed for it. But that was taken care of now, thanks to Anne. He’d thank her properly, once this was all sorted out, even though infecting Matt of all people was more trouble than it was worth. Now, there was only Sarah to worry about. “Listen, I’m going to need you to trust me.”

“Tall order.” Sarah snorted. “Give me a good reason.”

“I’m your brother?” Harry offered, and she laughed. “Fine.” He amended. “I’m your big brother.” When she simply raised an eyebrow in response, he threw his head back and groaned. “Listen. I need you to keep yourself out of the way tonight, alright? Stay places where loads of people can see you. Hang out with Kyung in public. Something, okay?”

He took her hands in his, ignoring Sarah’s conflicted expression. Her hands were so small, Harry realized suddenly, struck so hard by this revelation that he felt like he’d been slapped. She was so small, despite being quite tall for twelve. She was a little kid. She didn’t deserve this world. He cleared his throat, trying to keep back the tears he felt coming.

“Do anything you need to make sure people see you somewhere that’s not here, alright?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Sarah said, wrenching her hands out of Harry’s grip. The grumpy expression on her face settled his heart a bit, made him believe for a split second that she might come out of this unscathed. “What’s wrong? I know you’re willing to go run off to save the world for anything, but… you look a little…” She waved her hands around her face. “You know.”

“Hopefully nothing you’ll remember.” He ruffled her hair, a slight smile coming to his face as it stood up awkwardly, much like his own did. She did her best to flatten her hair down, frowning. “I’m going to be using the Floo inside Appa’s office with a couple other people. I need you to stay out here and keep people from coming in until we’ve left, alright? And then you leave, just like I told you before. It’s crucial. Really important. And I trust you, you can do it.”

“And if I don’t?” Sarah asked.

“If you don’t… something bad’s going to happen tonight, and nobody will be there to stop it.” Harry’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as his sister’s face grew solemn. There was a knowing look in her eyes, one he wished would’ve never taken root in her. “I know that’s something I say a lot, and that it doesn’t always go well, but it’s got to be me, Charu. Nobody else is going to try. Please. Trust me.”

“Okay.” She said hoarsely. “Just this time.” She hung her head, stepping back, and cast a look over her shoulder to see if the hallway was clear. “I just-- You’re coming back, right? You promise?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “As soon as I can. We’re just telling Mr. Weasley what I’ve seen, since Dumbledore isn’t here, and McGonagall’s… indisposed. And god forbid I go to Umbridge with something like this, huh?” He didn’t miss the momentary tightening of his sister’s face at the mention of Umbridge’s name. There would be time enough to figure that out later. Uncle Sirius had always had a spectacular gift for dragging the truth out of Sarah, despite their often contentious relationship. Maybe Harry could enlist him to help. “It’ll be fine, okay.”

“I don’t like this.” Sarah said, voice small, and Harry nodded.

“If it helps, I don’t either.” He said. “Just watch the door for us, okay? I’ll signal you somehow before going through at the end, and you’re to go straight up to Ravenclaw Tower and tell no one you were here.”

“Okay.” Sarah said, obviously forcing herself to sound steady, and Harry felt as if his heart was shattering.

He’d thought that he could trust Sarah with this job, but did he really want to? Did he really want his baby sister playing lookout for something that could go terribly wrong? His friends were one thing-- he was reasonably sure they’d chosen to follow him out of their own free will, and though he didn’t like it, he wasn’t thick enough to pick a fight with any of them. Sarah, though, was young and small and so newly twelve years old. Harry remembered the early days of being twelve, the short lull before the storm swirling around the Chamber had sucked him in and spit him out, and he couldn’t imagine having this level of responsibility thrust on him then.

“Okay.” She repeated, nodding resolutely. “I’ll do it.”

He wouldn’t have been half as brave. He wouldn’t have needed to be.

Harry had never before hated being a big brother, but now he did, intensely and with all his heart.

“Go right back to Ravenclaw afterward, okay?” He said, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” His voice cracked on the last word, but she didn’t point it out, as she normally would. “Be safe, okay?”

“Sure.” She said, trying for a smile but only producing some mangled, inaccurate approximation of one. Harry reached out and squeezed her shoulder, pulling his hand away when he noticed his friends coming around the corner-- Ginny, Neville and Luna in front, followed by Ron and Hermione. “I’ll-- I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Good.” Harry said. “I’m glad.”

“Slumming it with the firsties, mate?” Ron smiled brightly. “Hey, Sarah.”

“Just one firstie.” Harry said, nudging Sarah in the ribs. Sarah gave an exaggerated sigh before kicking Harry in the side of the foot. Harry cursed under his breath, earning a laugh from Ginny. “Alright. Shall we get going?”

“We probably should”, said Neville, who was scanning the hallway nervously. “Can’t hang around too long, or we’ll likely be discovered.”

“Right.” Harry said, and held the door as his friends walked through. Sarah watched him from the other side of the line passing between them, a resigned expression on her face. After Ron had gone inside, Harry shot a strained smile at Sarah. “Remember--”

“Go back to the Tower when you’re gone. I know.” Sarah said, with a curt nod. “Go on inside. I’ve got it.”

“Thanks.” He said, before hurrying inside, the door closing behind him. “Alright. Let’s go over the plan again.”

“The plan isn’t very complicated.” Ron said, exasperated. “Your dad isn’t here, so we’re sneaking into his office and using the floo.”

“There’s just one problem.” Hermione spoke up. “Umbridge is probably watching your father’s Floo. I don’t know about you, but if I had it out for someone, I’d keep track of their movements.”

“Hermione. That’s creepy.” Neville said, attempting to hide behind Ginny, who was markedly shorter than him.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past ‘Mione to kidnap someone and hold them hostage if they pissed her off enough.” Ron shrugged.

“Would anyone even notice?” Harry asked. “I doubt it.”

“She’s right, too.” Ginny sighed.

“When isn’t she?” Ron shot back.

“I’m glad you’ve got so much confidence in me.” Hermione said. “But we aren’t addressing the crucial flaw in Harry’s plan.”

“I can get us off the grounds.” Luna piped up suddenly, her gaze lowering from the ceiling and back to her friends.

“That’s… That’s nice.” Neville nodded, looking completely befuddled. “How would that work?”

“The thestrals.” Luna smiled happily, her cloud of blonde hair bobbing as she nodded to herself. “They like eating raw meat, you see, and the house elves are ever so helpful when I ask. We’ve become quite good friends.”

“That’s nice.” Harry said. “What are Thestrals?”

“Are you friends with the thestrals or the house elves?” Ron frowned.

“Both.” Luna said, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s question. “They keep them out in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid used to take care of them, but since he’s been gone, I’ve been making sure to feed them regularly.”

“Oh. Shit. We forgot Grawp.” Harry said.

“He’s probably okay.” Hermione said. “I’m sure there are animals close by.”

“Okay, so who votes that Harry and Hermione never have children?” Ron pressed a hand to his face.

“Me!” Harry raised his hand.

“I second that vote.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I think Harry might be alright actually.” Neville piped up. Nobody listened to Neville.

“So, the thestrals it is, then.” Ginny clapped a hand to Luna’s shoulder. “Lead the way, Luna.”

“I still don’t know what a thestral is.” Ron confessed.

“You have to have witnessed death to see them.” Neville said. Neville, unlike his peers, paid attention in Care of Magical Creatures, mostly because he was terrified of getting trampled or eaten by the creatures they studied. Ron and Harry, at least, took a much more lax approach to the subject. “They’re winged horses.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded. “Winged horses sound easy.”

“You bribe them with raw meat, like Luna said.” Neville looked around the group.

“Slight problem.” Harry raised his hand. “I can’t touch the raw meat.”

“That’s true.” Luna hummed. “You can always ride with someone else.”

“I can, uh, take care of that.” Neville said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Right. So are we going or not?” He seemed determined to wipe what he’d said from the group’s memory, but judging by the look on Ginny Weasley’s face, that would be nearly impossible.

“Maybe I should alert Umbridge to this vulgar display of affection.” She teased.

“Come off it, Ginny.” Harry muttered, but still shifted closer to Neville. “We’re not that gross.”

“That’s a load of rubbish.” Ron snorted. “Remember when they held up our DA meeting because they wouldn’t stop complimenting each other? Hermione, tell your parents I’m billing them for my dentist bill.”

Ron, who was quite pleased at having remembered the proper definition of what a dentist was, turned to Hermione with a bright grin. Hermione didn’t look as pleased as Ron thought she ought to, and his grin slowly slid from his face.

“Let’s get on down to the grounds.” Hermione said, turning away from the group and beginning to make her way down the hallway. She looked back over her shoulder at the group and tapped her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“Give me a second.” Harry said, and motioned for everyone else to go ahead. He strode back over to where Sarah was standing, apart from where the rest had been but close enough to listen to their conversation, and slapped her on the shoulder like he would any of his friends. “Just head back to the common room, alright? Stay safe.”

“Yeah.” Sarah said, nodding. She made no motion to reciprocate, staring at him for a second before turning abruptly on her heel and marching off in the opposite direction.

Harry stood there for a second, watching her retreating back, before jogging back to his friends, who, instead of going ahead like he’d instructed, had waited where they’d been standing.

“Come on.” He said, much more seriously than before. “We don’t have time to waste.”

* * *

Thankfully, the Thestrals both knew their way to the Ministry of Magic, and knew their way back to Hogwarts from there. Luna waved as they took flight, leaving everyone else staring awkwardly into the sky, empty save for clouds and the occasional airplane. Riding something he couldn’t see had been extraordinarily awkward, and Harry was glad to be done with the experience.

“So, Ron, how do we get in?”

“There.” Ron turned, pointing towards a nearby phone booth as though it weren’t an entirely ordinary thing to find in the heart of London. “That should be the one.”

“Really?” Harry looked at the phone booth, which looked perfectly ordinary. It was red, boxy and largely made up of windows-- exactly the sort he’d expect to see on any street corner. “Do you dial a number or…”

“Yeah. Don’t look so worried-- Dad takes us to work all the time.” Ron said, nudging his sister with his shoulder.

“Awfully dangerous, security wise.” Hermione muttered, as they all tried to squeeze into the telephone booth. “Any Muggle could walk in here, get the number by accident, and then they’d have to Obliviate them downstairs.”

“Well, obliviating muggles is what wizards do best.” Ginny mumbled, shoving her elbow into Harry’s ribcage. Ron frowned at her words, blue eyes sliding over towards Hermione.

A few Muggles eyed them oddly, wondering what business six teenagers had that required them all to be crammed into the small space, but it made it easy enough for Harry to lace his fingers through Neville’s without drawing too much notice. Neville glanced uncomfortably at the people passing outside, but Harry nudged him with his shoulder, setting him at ease.

Ron leaned around Luna, peering through her cloud of blonde hair as he dialed 62442.

The phone booth abruptly swung into motion, and Neville grabbed Harry’s upper arm to steady himself as they sunk into the ground.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic,” said a pleasant female voice, “please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley!” Harry rattled off quickly. “We’re here to save someone!”

“Thank you,” the voice said. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”

Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where return coins usually appeared. Hermione grabbed them, quickly handing them out as best she could in the cramped space. Harry glanced curiously down at him, finding his name neatly printed, and beneath that the words ‘rescue mission’ in bold font.

“Visitors are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk at the far end of the Atrium.”

“Fine!” Ginny snapped testily. “Just let us out already!”

The floor shuddered, as if responding to Ginny, and the telephone box abruptly came to a halt, the doors sliding open to reveal the dimly lit atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The soaring ceiling twinkled with glittering, twisting symbols, which provided the only light, as the sconces lining the walls were devoid of fire. There was no one in sight.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening.” The female voice trilled happily, before falling silent. The doors clanged shut behind them, and with the departure of the telephone booth, the only sound in the echoing room was the golden fountain’s trickling water.

“I’m uncomfortable.” Neville whispered.

“Yeah.” Harry said, unable to muster up anything even remotely reassuring. “Yeah.”

“The lifts are this way!” Ron said, taking off down the hall. Harry and the others followed him, skirting past the fountain and an empty security desk. Ron held his arm out to keep the lift door open until everyone had crammed in, and then stabbed at the down button. The golden gates clanged shut and with a jolt they began their descent.

“It seems awfully empty.” Luna said, a hint of worry winding its way through her normally carefree tone.

“It’s a Tuesday night, after hours.” Harry said, attempting to assuage Luna’s concerns. “Maybe people have gone home?”

“It’s the Ministry of Magic.” Ginny said with a frown. “I don’t think it ever really stops.”

“Well it has now.” Ron’s tone was tight with worry.

“I think I should call my mum.” Neville said. “I think we all should.”

“Just yours?” Harry teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“No”, Neville replied, utterly baffled. “All of them.”

“Oh, but I love your mother.” Luna told him, blinking up at him.

“I’ll make sure to tell her.” Neville nodded seriously.

“Thank you very much.” Luna patted his arm.

The lift rattled to a stop, and the female voice spoke with a cheer that belied the tension in the air. “Welcome to the Department of Mysteries.”

“This is where we get out.” Harry said, exiting the lift so no one else had to go first. “Shall we?”

The hallway stretching out before them was a familiar one-- he’d seen it in his dreams enough times to know which door separated him from Sirius. Harry squared his shoulders, and motioned for everyone to follow.

“It’s down this way.” He said. “Watch out, though. Luna’s right. It’s too quiet.”

The group crept down the hallway, footsteps loud in the oppressing silence. When they finally reached the door, they all stared up at it for a moment. “Let’s get on with it.” Ron mumbled, causing Ginny to reach forward and push the door open.

The room beyond the door was pure black. It curved around them in a perfect circle, lit only by blue shimmering flames, held aloft by dripping candles. Handleless, black doors towered over them from every direction.

“Perfect representation of our government.” Harry muttered.

“Mildly terrifying?” asked Neville.

“Badly planned, all the same color, and weirdly circular.” Harry replied. “But good point.”

“I was going to say unnecessarily ominous.” Ginny mumbled, eyeing the nearest door suspiciously.

Almost as though her gaze had triggered some sort of response, the wall suddenly gave a great shudder. The door they had entered through silently slid shut, and the blue flames wavered. The circular wall was rotating.

It spun around and around, the blue flames spluttering and tilting as it sped up. Luna bumped into Harry’s arm as she attempted to back away from the walls, but it was over almost as quickly as it began.

“What… What was that?” Ron turned, staring as the wall came to a halt.

“It doesn’t want us knowing which door we came in through… I think.” Ginny frowned.

“Well, that’s nice.” Hermione said, sounding like she’d much rather drink acid. “I guess we have no option but to go forward.”

“Considering that’s the plan, we’re in luck.” Harry said, trying to sound optimistic.

“Pick a door, Harry.” Ginny said.

“We’re looking for a room with a bunch of glass balls in it.” Harry said. “Shelves full of glass balls. The doors all look the same. Would be helpful if someone had labeled them.”

“It’s part of the mystery.” Hermione said.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Harry.” Ron mumbled.

“Anybody have a good guess?” Harry asked.

“I don’t see why we can’t just look through all the doors. We’re bound to find it eventually.” Luna said thoughtfully.

“She’s right. We’ll probably have to open two or three before we find the right room.” Ron shrugged.

“Alright, so the second one.” Harry led the group toward the second door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle and pulling the door open.

The light of the room was nearly blinding after the darkness of the circular chamber. All of the lamps hanging from the low ceiling were brightly lit, swaying slightly at the end of their thick chains. Other than those, there were so sparkling, shimmering lights, and the room was rather small. It was empty, besides a few desks and what appeared to be an enormous tank of deep-green water. Pearly white objects drifted lazily through the liquid.

“This isn’t the right one.” Harry muttered. “What even is this?”

“Are those… fish?” Ron stepped forward, peering at the tank curiously.

“Aquavirius maggots!” Luna gasped in excitement. “Dad said the Ministry is breeding-”

“They’re brains, Luna.” Hermione said. Neville cringed. “Why are they keeping brains in tanks?”

“Brains?” Harry asked, staring at the tanks in mounting horror. “What?”

“Let’s get out of here.” Ron took a step back, rubbing his hands together nervously. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”

“There are other doors in here.” Ginny suddenly said, turning to look at the wall behind the tank.

“Oh, my. This department seems quite expansive.” Luna murmured.

“Ron’s right. We have to go back. It wasn’t-- I don’t remember this room, so it can’t have been one of those doors.” Harry said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

They all hurried back into the darkness of the first room, but Hermione whirled around as soon as she realized the door was sliding shut behind them.

“Flagrate!” Hermione said, drawing a fiery x across the door they had just closed.

“Good idea.” Ron mumbled as the wall lurched back into motion. It spun around them, the red of Hermione’s spell blending with the blue candlelight. When the wall came to a stop, the burning cross remained on the door.

“Alright, so no to that one.” Harry said, pointing to the crossed out door. “Let’s try the one next to it?”

The second room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular. The center was sunken, forming a great stone pit twenty feet below them. Large stone steps led down to the center of the room, like some sort of amphitheatre, and at the very center stood a raised dias. On the dias stood a stone archway. Ancient and cracked, Harry could almost believe it was about to crumble at any moment.

There was something oppressively still about the room, but the tattered black curtain that hung from the archway seemed to flutter in a nonexistent breeze.

“This is weirder than the brains.” Harry said. “Why is there just a curtain hanging here?”

“No good reason.” Neville said glumly.

“Nobody touch it.” Harry warned. “You probably shouldn’t touch it. Curtains are dangerous.”

“Hello? Ron suddenly called out, jumping down onto the stone step below them. “Who’s there?”

“Ron.” Ginny hissed.

Ron paid his sister no heed, hopping down the next two steps with a contemplative expression. Luna followed after him, pulling her wand from behind her ear. Ron approached the black veil, head tilting slightly to the side. “Can you guys… hear that?”

“Hear what?” Hermione asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Let’s-- Let’s go.” Neville grabbed Harry by the arm. “This doesn’t feel right. This doesn’t feel right at all.”

“Someone is whispering… What are you saying?” Ron took another step towards the curtain.

“No one is talking!” Ginny snapped. “Ronald, get your arse back up here!”

“There are people in there.” Luna breathed.

“Ron, get back!” Harry hissed. “You too, Luna! Come on! This isn’t the right room and we know it.”

Ron stood at the edge of the dais, seemingly mystified by the veil. After a long moment he wrenched his gaze away, shaking his head. “Yeah, uh… Sorry. Sorry.” He took several steps back up the stone stairs, pausing briefly to glance back at the fluttering curtain. “Weird shit…”

“Yeah.” Harry said, looking doubtfully back at the curtain. “Let's head back. The third room’s got to be the right one, right?”

“There’s like a million doors.” Ginny pointed out as they filed back into the circular chamber for the second time. Hermione marked the door with another burning cross, and they waited for the wall to finish spinning.

“Probability has to work out eventually.” Harry said, couching his words in utterly undeserved optimism. “Isn’t that how probability works?”

“Not at all, actually.” Hermione frowned. “The wizarding world needs to require math.”

“Just choose a door.” Ginny groaned.

Harry spun around with his eyes closed before pointing at a door. “That one.”

“Wow.” Ginny rubbed a hand over her face.

Harry pulled at the door handle, frowning when it didn’t budge. He tried a second time, but once again failed to wrench it open.

“Do you know what could be behind the door?” Luna said to Ginny in an excited tone.

“Something blibbering, no doubt.” She muttered.

“You take that back.” Neville said angrily. “Luna’s trying to help and she’s doing a damn good job of it.”

“The quicker we start fighting amongst ourselves, the faster they get to us.” Harry said. “Hermione, just don’t. Please?”

“Who the hell is ‘they’ supposed to be?” Ginny asked.

“When I saw what was happening, it was just Sirius and Voldemort, but who knows?” Harry said, wringing his hands. Neville placed a sweaty hand on his shoulder. “There’s-- there’s loads of Death Eaters still loyal to him. I saw them last summer. We can’t say they won’t be around.”

A tense silence fell over the room as everyone imagined whatever horrible things could be lying in wait. “We need to find your uncle.” Ron mumbled, giving Harry a push. “Pick another one.”

“Alright.” Harry said, pointing at the door next to the one he’d chosen. “Fourth time’s the charm? Is that even a thing?”

“No.” Hermione said, frowning in confusion.

“English sucks.” Harry said, before walking over to the other door. Much to his surprise, it opened easily, unlike the room before it.

He knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry’s eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that clocks gleamed from every surface. Large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces that had no right housing clocks. Bookshelves and desks were overrun by the sheer number of them, and the room was filled with a relentless ticking noise, like that of a million tiny footsteps. The source of the dancing lights was a towering crystal bell jar at the far end of the room.

Harry lurched forward, racing through the room with his friends hot on his heels. He wove between the desks and clocks, making a beeline for the crystal bell jar.

“Oh, look!” Ginny gasped, pointing at the very heart of the shimmering jar.

Drifting along the current of shimmering light was a tiny, jewel-encrusted egg. It slowly rose to the top of the jar, where it split open and a hummingbird emerged. It fluttered its wings uselessly, beating against the glass before slowly sinking back into the light, where it became encased once more in the egg.

“It’s through here!” Harry said excitedly. “Come on!”

A door stood against the wall, nearly invisible among the array of clocks surrounding them. Harry pushed against the wood and they spilled into the next room.

It was the room from his vision.

High as a church and filled with nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They shimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, the flames shimmered blue. Despite the array of open flame, the cavernous room was cold.

Where was Sirius? Harry couldn’t hear anything, save for himself and his friends-- no noise, no breathing, no movement. They must be farther down, he thought, looking ahead.

“Row ninety-seven.” He said, suddenly remembering. “They’re in row ninety-seven.”

“What?” Luna whispered.

“We’re in row fifty-four now, so we should probably turn right.” Hermione said, following the silver numbers on the shelves. “They’re increasing that way.”

Harry kept an ear out for any noise as the group steadily advanced, worrying more and more as the numbers increased. What if they reached row ninety-seven and Sirius was hurt? How would they save him? What if he was in mortal danger? What if Voldemort was still there? Harry had just brought him targets in bringing his friend along-- who’s to say Voldemort wouldn’t just kill them all just for helping a friend?

“Maybe you all should stay back.” Harry said, as they passed row sixty-eight. “Just in case. I’ll go out in front, and then if anything’s wrong, I’ll yell back so you can run.”

“Do I have to air out the laundry list of shit we’ve already done together in the past five years?” Ron asked, eyebrows raising. “Again?”

“We signed on to help, and we’re staying.” Neville said, with the most confidence he’d displayed all night.

“Alright.” Harry whispered, feeling a little less worried. They were in front of row ninety-four. Only three more to go. “Everybody, stay on guard.”

The teens approached row ninety-seven, but found it empty. The row was devoid of human life, save for them, just as all the others had been. It was softly lit by the glowing, smoke filled orbs on the shelves, and Harry stared up at them, realizing that there were labels beneath each one. The letters were too small, even with his glasses, and Harry doubted he’d stop to read them even if he, his family and his friends weren’t in potential mortal danger.

“Maybe-- maybe he’s a little further down.” Harry said, voice shaking just slightly. Was Sirius dead? That was the only reason he wouldn’t be causing some kind of fuss. “We should keep going.”

“Harry, I don’t think he’s here.” Hermione said gently. “It’s empty.”

“Well.” Harry said, frowning. “Maybe I just got the number wrong.” He went a few rows further down, looking for any sign of Sirius. He had to be here. Harry had seen it.

“Harry.” Ron’s voice suddenly rang out through the silent room. Harry continued searching, ignoring Ron’s increasingly loud calls. “Harry!”

“What?” Harry said, just loudly enough for Ron to hear him.

“Have you seen this…?”

Harry jogged back over to his friends. Ron had found Sirius! They could leave now, while it was all safe. It was over. The wave of relief that swept over him brought a smile to his face, one that dropped right off it when he noticed his friends all staring at one of the glass spheres, woefully without Sirius.

Ron was staring up at one of the shelves with a perplexed expression. He was eyeing one of the glowing spheres with a frown. “What is it?” Harry asked.

“It’s… got your name on it.” Ron said, pointing up at one of the dusty orbs.

“My name?” Harry asked, confused. “Why would someone put my name on a ball?”

Harry was not as tall as Ron, and had to crane his neck to read the yellowing label. In thin, spidery script, someone had dated it some sixteen years past, and beneath that simply ‘S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter”.

“Spit to… Ap… Apwuh-bad?” Ginny frowned, standing on her toes and squinting in an attempt to read the label.

“My favorite part is question mark Harry Potter.” Harry said. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one Harry Potter. It’s me.”

“This is sixteen years old, according to the date.” Ron said. “You weren’t born yet.”

“These are prophecies.” Hermione said, awestruck. “If your name’s on it, it’s about you.”

“Wow.” Harry said, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “I wonder what hearing one of those feels like.”

“Probably not that impressive.” Ron shrugged.

Harry picked the orb from the shelf, rubbing his thumb over the smooth glass. Nothing happened. He didn’t realize that he’d been expecting some dramatic, dangerous moment until he’d been let down. Well, Harry thought, a let down was much better than the alternative.

And then, quite suddenly, a drawling voice spoke from behind them.

“Very good, Potter. Now be a good boy and give it to me.”


	21. Into The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s even in this anyway?” Harry threw the ball and caught it. “Why do you want it so badly?”
> 
> “You don’t know?” Bellatrix slowly tilted her head to the side, wild curls falling into her face. “You don’t know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long promised Minor Character Death. Get ready, folx, it's a big one, for a minor character. Hopefully we won't have too many more, but you never know, in wartime.
> 
> We'll hopefully see you next week, with Chapter 22, but we'll be taking the 4th of November off because of school and life just drowning both of us that week. We'll be back on the eleventh no matter what, though, so if we don't manage to post by the twenty-eighth, that's when you'll see us next!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, and leave us a comment telling us what you think!
> 
> -S&L

“No.” Harry said, holding the orb closer to his chest. “It’s got my name on it.” 

A long history of having his things stolen by people standing behind him had prepared him for this moment, though the people stealing his things were often short with chubby hands, probably not evil, and easily consoled by distraction with sugary treats. This would be much harder than keeping his pencils out of Drew’s mouth.

Harry and his friends turned, wands at the ready, as black shapes emerged from the darkness. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Potter.” Lucius Malfoy said, expression unamused.

“No.” Harry said, a sneer on his face. Malfoy Senior was just like his son, unused to ever hearing the word no, and Harry was glad to get the chance to tell them both off. Rejection builds character, and neither Malfoy had much to start with. “You can have it when I’m dead.”

“That can always be arranged.” Lucius raised his own glowing wand, an eyebrow quirked challengingly. 

“Pretty fair fight you’re starting there, Lucius.” Harry said, motioning for his friends to get back. “A grown man against a child. That’s hardly anything to be proud of. Can’t imagine your boss is going to be too happy. Pick whichever one. Voldemort, the Ministry, I feel like both of them would want to handle me themselves.”

“Do you assume me dull enough to react to your pathetic baiting?” Lucius asked, unperturbed. “Hand over the prophecy.”

“No.” Harry said, standing up a little straighter in a last ditch effort to look intimidating. “Never.”

A high pitched laugh drifted through the room, causing Lucius’ mouth to press into a thin line. 

“Never!” The voice barked out, tinted with dark humor. “Lookit little Potter, acting all grown up!”

“Hey, uh, Ron?” Harry called back over his shoulder. “Maybe you should leave.”

“What?” Ron looked at him with wide eyes, wand held at the ready. “Why?”

“Giving out orders like he means to lead them!” The voice shrieked.

“Ron. Take everyone else and get out.” Harry said, as forcefully as he could. “Now.”

“Like hell!” Ron snapped. “I’m not leaving you here!”

“He thinks he can fight us off all on his lonesome!”

“You don’t know Potter like I do, Bellatrix.” Lucius said coolly. “He has a great love for heroics. The Dark Lord understands that. The prophecy, Potter.”

“What do you want with it?” Harry asked, in an effort to stall.

“Enough of this!” The woman shrieked, storming forward. She whipped her wand up, mad eyes narrowing in the shadow of her hood. “Accio prophecy!”

Harry luckily had his wand at the ready, yelling “Protego” to block Bellatrix’s spell. He lost his grip on the orb, and it nearly rolled out of his hand. Luckily, he saved it at the last minute.

“No!” Lucius barked. “If you smash it--”

The woman ignored Malfoy, whipping off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed out Bellatrix Lestrange’s face, leaving her gaunt and skull-like in the gloom. Her skin was pale, but her eyes were lit with a feverish, fanatic glow. “Do you need to be persuaded, then?” She asked, chest heaving. “Take the smallest one! We’ll see how long he lasts while we torture the little girl!” 

“No!” Neville yelled, putting himself between Ginny and the others. “You won’t get her!”

But it was too late-- the Death Eaters were already closing in around them. 

“If you come any closer, I’ll throw it!” Harry threatened. “I’ll smash it and that’ll be it!”

Bellatrix threw up her arm, causing the dark figures to pause, suspended awkwardly mid-step. She said nothing, but stared at Harry with narrowed eyes.

“What’s even in this anyway?” Harry threw the ball and caught it. “Why do you want it so badly?”

“You don’t know?” Bellatrix slowly tilted her head to the side, wild curls falling into her face. “You don’t know?”

“Well, I’d know if somebody told me.” Harry said.

“Dumbledore never told you? Your parents never told you?” Lucius said with a sneer.

“How bad could it be anyway?” Harry asked. “If my parents never mentioned it, it probably isn’t important.”

“Can this be?” said Malfoy. Some of the Death Eaters were laughing maliciously. “Well this certainly explains why you didn’t come earlier! The Dark Lord was wondering why. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…”

“Why I didn’t-- Where’s Sirius?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too panicked.

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though Bellatrix laughed the loudest of all. “It’s time you learned the difference between real life and dreams, boy.” Lucius stepped forward, wand extended in one hand while the other hovered, palm-up. “This is your last chance.”

“You’re not getting it.” Harry said evenly. “I’d smash it before I gave it to you.”

“Smash the shelves.” Hermione whispered to Ron. “Harry needs a diversion or they’re going to slaughter him.”

Ron glanced at her before flickering his eyes to the towering shelves of glowing orbs. He gave a barely-noticeable nod and gently nudged Luna, relaying the message softly.

Neville, who had overheard Ron telling Luna, grinned at Ginny. “Well.” He said. “This is your area of expertise.”

“All at once.” She whispered, shaking her head. “Knock as much as possible over so we can get away.”

“On three.” Hermione whispered. “One, two--”

“NOW!” Ginny whipped her wand up, aiming for the tallest shelf. 

Five hexes flew through the air, striking against the surrounding shelves and exploding as they hit. Glowing orbs rolled from the swaying shelves, smashing against the floor and releasing the wispy apparitions of prophets long dead. Their echoing voices filled the narrow passage, nearly drowning out Ron’s cry of, “RUN!”

The shelves swayed precariously, and Harry watched several Death Eaters dive out of the way as more glass spheres rained from above. Harry grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, shoving her out of the path of a deluge of falling spheres. 

“Follow Ron!” He yelled, sprinting off after Ron, Hermione close at his side.

Everyone was yelling, shouts of pain drowned out by thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed around them. Ron, Luna, and Ginny were sprinting through the dust far ahead of Harry, their arms held over their heads in an attempt to protect themselves. 

Harry felt a hand at his back, gripped around his robes, and was about to yell to Hermione to leave him behind when she fired off a well timed hex, blasting the Death Eater away. Harry ran after her as she exited the aisle, following Neville’s lead, and the group soon found themselves back in the room filled with clocks.

“Has anyone seen Ron?” Harry asked, feeling sick to his stomach when he noticed Neville shaking his head. “So, uh, it’s just us then. For now.”

The moment of peace didn’t last long, as a group of Death Eaters came crashing through the door, wands at the ready. 

“Don’t kill the boy!” Lucius shouted. “Kill the others, but ensure the prophecy is safe!”

Hermione dove out of the way of a curse, rolling beneath a desk full of clockwork. Neville let out a shout of fear, whipping his wand up. A jet of red light erupted from his wand, sailing past one of the approaching Death Eaters and smashing into a glass cabinet against the far wall. It fell to the floor, glass flying everywhere, before springing back onto the wall, fully mended. It fell once more, shattering again, and seemed quite content to repeat this process as Harry continued to throw hexes at the enemy.

“STUPEFY!” Hermione was now leaning out from under the desk, and her spell struck one of the masked Death Eaters square in the chest. He fell backwards, and Harry expected him to slam against the bell jar with the hatching and unhatching egg and slide to the floor. Instead, he sank through the glass.

Harry didn’t know what to call the figure in the glass anymore. It shrunk in on itself rapidly, arms banging uselessly against the confines of the bell jar, mouth wide open in a scream. Its teeth shot backwards into its gums as its cheeks filled out, and Harry hardly recognized the small, chubby thing in the jar as a baby until someone else pointed it out. The Death Eater had become a baby, just because he touched something.

Harry wasn’t putting his hands on anything in this place. He was lucky the prophecy had turned out alright.

“It’s a jar of time.” Hermione said, casting a worried glance at the bell jar. “It’s pure time.”

“What do they study in here?” Neville asked nervously.

“Time, I’d say.” Harry said, trying to sound lighthearted.

There was a sudden shout from nearby, and then a crash and a loud scream. 

“I hope that’s everyone else.” Harry said. 

“They’re screaming.” Neville said, spinning the handle of his wand in his sweaty hand. “Maybe we shouldn’t hope that’s them.”

“It’s better for us to know where they are than not.” Harry said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The trio ran out into the circular room again, following the source of the noise.

Their three missing friends were gathered. Luna was hovering over Ginny, who was collapsed against one wall as she clutched her ankle. Ron was standing nearby, giggling hysterically.

“Harry!” Ginny gasped, moving as though to stand before collapsing against the wall with a pained grunt. 

“I think she broke her ankle.” Luna said, concern leaking into her normally carefree tone. “I heard it crack.”

“Ron?” Hermione called out, a frown weighing heavy on her face. “Is Ron okay?” Her concern seemed entirely warranted, as Ron was now stumbling towards them, still giggling. He grabbed the front of Harry’s robes, and he realized with a start that Ron was paler than normal, and something dark was leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

“Harry.” He giggled weakly, lurching forward and pressing his forehead against his shoulder. “There y’are… Haha… Ha… Y’look funny! All messed up…” His knees suddenly gave way, and he slid to the floor, still giggling and holding tightly onto Harry’s clothes. 

“I’m not sure what they hit him with.” Luna confessed. “We ran into a room, and it was awfully dark, and we were floating around with these planets-”

“Uranus!” Ron shrieked, more blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. “We saw Uranus, Harry, ahaha….!”

“I-I blew up Pluto so we could escape, but Ron got hit, and he’s gone a bit funny.” Luna winced. “I could hardly convince him to come with us.” 

“We saw a grown man get turned into a baby.” Neville said, in a tone that made it clear he’d likely be having nightmares about it for months. 

“We need to get moving now.” Harry said urgently. “We don’t know where they are, and the longer we stay still, the quicker they’ll find us.”

“We don’t know which door is the exit!” Ginny snapped.

“It’s a one in twelve chance.” Hermione said, glancing around the room. “The marks are gone.”

Luna pulled Ginny to her feet, looping an arm around her waist to help support her. Harry held Ron steady by the upper arm, trying to remember which door they had come through.

“That one.” Harry said, pointing toward the door directly to his left. “God, I hope it’s not one we’ve been through already.”

As they piled through the door, another bang from the circular room gave way to more Death Eaters. “Get them!” Bellatrix shrieked. 

Hermione slammed the door behind them, snapping a frantic “Colloportus!”. The door shut with a squelching noise, and several banging noises could be heard as the Death Eaters attempted to follow them.

“There are other ways in! Find another entrance!” Bellatrix’ muffled voice rang out.

Harry turned, ignoring the way blood smeared across his shoulder as Ron’s head lolled to the side. They were back in the room with the brain tank, and a sense of horror filled him when he realized that the walls were lined with doors. 

“We have to seal the doors.” Hermione said. “Otherwise they’ll get in, and we-- we don’t really have a chance, then.”

“Alright, you’re just going to take a breather over here.” Harry said, carefully sitting Ron down up against a wall. “Stay there. Timeout.”

Hermione, who’d been barricading doors with Neville, Ginny and Luna, was pleased to have another set of hands on the task when Harry joined them. There were an awful lot of doors all around the room, and even five people fully dedicated to the task was far too little.

Footsteps were pounding behind the door, and occasionally a loud bang would echo from behind a sealed door. 

“Collo- Augh!” Luna shrieked in surprise as she reached the very top of the room. One of the doors burst open, and Harry turned in time to see the blonde girl sailing across the room. She hit a desk and collapsed against the floor, unmoving. 

“Get Potter!” Bellatrix ordered, already running towards him. 

“Harry-” Ron had apparently gotten back up, because he bumped into his friend, stumbling past him as though the Death Eaters were of no concern. 

“Ron, get back.” Harry hissed.

“There are brains in here, haha… Isn’t that weird, Harry?” Ron giggled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Brains! Lookit that! Really, Harry, look! Accio brain!”

For a moment, it was as though everything froze. A brain suddenly burst from the top of the tank, green liquid splattering the floor. It hung in the air for a moment before soaring towards Ron, spinning as what looked like ribbons of moving images flew from it. Almost like unraveling rolls of film.

“Harry, look!” Ron watched with glazed over eyes as it flew towards him, innards disgorging. Harry lunged to try and shove him out of the way, but Ron had already caught it with a giggle. The tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron’s arms like ropes.

“Lookit… Look… Hey, w-wait… Stop! Stop!” 

But the thin ribbons were curling tightly around his chest now, even as he tugged and tore at them in an attempt to pull the creature from his person. A pained shout left his mouth as he stumbled back.

“Harry, it’ll suffocate him!” screamed Ginny. She was on the floor, immobilized by her broken ankle. She attempted to lurch to her feet, but before she could even stumble, a jet of red light struck her square in the face. She collapsed and lay there, unconscious. 

“Neville!” Harry yelled. “Get the brain off Ron!”

“Harry-- What--” Neville blubbered.

Harry glanced around the room, seeing the collapsed bodies of his friends, and realized what he had to do. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been preparing for this all year, in every DA meeting and every detention with Umbridge. 

It had to be him, at the end, just like it was last year.

“You want me, right?” Harry called out, grip tightening around the handle of his wand. “Then come get me!” He sprinted off toward the next room, trying his best to focus on the battle ahead instead of the injured friends he was leaving behind. The Death Eaters had to follow him. They had to. He had the prophecy, didn’t he?

Fear shot through him-- what if they stayed behind, took the promise of easy prey over the real target? What if Neville died because of him? What if any of them died because of him?

Harry didn’t have to wait long for his answer, in the form of Death Eaters tearing into the room. They sent chairs and tables flying, but didn’t dare to bewitch him in case they damaged the prophecy. He sprinted through the door the Death Eaters had entered through, and suddenly he was falling as the floor vanished.

He tumbled down stone steps, rolling to a stop beneath the stone arch with its perpetually fluttering veil. He let out a wheezing groan, struggling back into a sitting position as the room filled with laughter. 

They’d been in this room earlier. Ron had heard voices when he was near the veil. Harry crept a little closer, curious, and frowned. He did hear a voice, from beyond the veil, one singing a familiar lullaby that Harry had loved as a child. It was distinctly different than what Harry remembered, an a woman’s voice rather than his father’s, and he stared at the fluttering veil like it would reveal what was beyond it. 

“Hand over the prophecy, Potter.” Lucius Malfoy’s steps were loud in the large room, and he pulled his mask from his face as he approached. “You’ve nowhere to run.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before.” Harry said, stepping back. He was too close to the veil for his own liking, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to swoop out from behind it and drag him through.

“Perhaps you need some encouragement.” Lucius sighed, as though he were making a particularly difficult decision, despite the boredom in his eyes. He flicked his hand, and a moment later two Death Eaters came into the room, Neville held tightly between them.

“Neville!” Harry cried out. Not Neville. Of all of them, not Neville. “Put him down!”

“Give us the prophecy.” Lucius said calmly.

“Oh, the little Longbottom!” Bellatrix cooed, her wild hair falling into her gaunt face as she leaned over Neville. “I never got to finish my meet-and-greet with your parents, you know!”

“Do not hurt him!” Harry roared. Tears pricked at his eyes, and Harry clutched the prophecy harder. “Leave him alone!”

“They got a pretty good first impression.” Neville said, scowling. 

“I’m sure you will, too!” She drew back her wand, a wild look of glee flitting across her sharp features. “Crucio!”

Neville let out a scream, convulsing violently. The Death Eater dropped him, and he lay on the floor, shuddering with sobs as Bellatrix held her wand aloft. “That was just a taster!” She shrieked, turning on Harry. “Give me the prophecy, or watch me kill your little friend the hard way.”

“No!” Harry said, clutching the prophecy to his chest. He hated seeing Neville in pain, but he knew that if the Death Eaters wanted this, it had to be important. 

Bellatrix let out another shriek of delight, turning back on Neville. Before she could raise her wand again, two more doors burst open and six figures tumbled in. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Kingsley, and his mother. The brief flash of relief Harry felt at seeing Sirius alive and safe was drowned out by his fear at the sight of his mother. 

Malfoy turned to see what the source of the noise was, but Tonks shot a stunning spell his way without hesitation. Harry dove out of the way, scrambling from the dais as the Order members rained spells down on the scattering Death Eaters. 

“Harry!” His mother’s voice rang through the chaos, her red hair a beacon among the chaos. 

Harry was about to yell to her that he was safe, that he was fine, but ran to Neville’s side instead. His mother didn’t need the distraction, and the diversion provided by the Order members’ arrival would only last so long.

“Nev.” Harry said, once he’d reached Neville. “You-- You alright there?” 

How did you talk to someone you’d just seen tortured? How do you fix this? Harry would resolve to ask his parents, after this was all over and done with, but he didn’t know if they’d both make it out alive tonight, or if there would be anything to fix when they did.

“I’m okay.” Neville said shakily, even though they both knew he wasn’t. Harry pulled him close for a second before holding him at arm’s length again, looking Neville over carefully.

“And Ron?”

“Still fighting the brain, the last I saw.” Neville said softly. “I hope he’s alright.”

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater where Neville’s head had been moments before. A thick arm suddenly grabbed Harry by the back of his robes, heaving him to his feet.

“Give me the prophecy!”

Harry held the orb tight in his hands before an idea came to him. 

“Neville-- catch!” Harry called, before throwing the prophecy toward Neville. 

He was suddenly reminded of summer afternoons playing catch in the Longbottoms’ front yard, when both of them were much younger and happier, before they even knew what the word war meant. They’d both grown up in the shadow of the First War, too young to know what had happened to their parents but old enough to know something had, and Harry wished for that time again. Knowing, it seemed, was infinitely worse than any other alternative.

Neville had never caught a single thing Harry had thrown to him. Harry hoped that this once, things would be different.

The orb smashed against the stone floor, and Harry watched in horror as a gossamer figure with huge eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by anyone but them. Harry could see her mouth moving, but in all the noise surrounding them, not a single word of the prophecy could be heard. The figure stopped talking and dissolved into nothingness.

“Did-- did you catch that?” Neville asked. Harry shook his head, still staring at the place where the figure had been seconds before. 

“Not a word.” He said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Anything that had his name on it alongside Voldemort’s couldn’t be any good.

“Harry-- Harry, look!” Neville exclaimed.

Harry turned, his eyes darting upwards. Framed in the light from the brain room was Dumbledore, his face pale and furious. He sped down the steps past Harry and Neville, wand aloft, spinning effortlessly as two Death Eaters were suddenly lifted from their feet and smashed against each other. 

Harry turned, eyes searching the room for his mother. She was across the room, back-to-back with Tonks as she hurled hexes at the rapidly diminishing number of Death Eaters. Her face was contorted in fury, her hair loose from it’s usual ponytail and whipping around her as she moved, as fluid as water. 

Sirius was only a few feet away, atop the dais as he traded spells with Bellatrix. “You can do better than that!” He shouted, ducking under a jet of green light. She snarled at him, eyes narrowed as she viciously struck out. 

The jet of light hit Sirius squarely in the chest.

The laughter died on his face, eyes suddenly wide in shock. Bellatrix’ laugh rang through the room, accompanied by a hoarse shout of horror from Remus. 

It seemed to take an eternity for Sirius to fall backwards, shock and fear intermingled on his face as he slowly sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch, which fluttered for a moment as though caught in a storm, before calming. As though Sirius had never fallen through to begin with.

Sirius was gone.


	22. Death Is Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted nothing more than to feel his mother’s presence beside him, to hide behind her rather than the cold, unforgiving stone of some stupid statue. 
> 
> The hall was empty.
> 
> Why was she worried?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back again, a little later than we promised we would be, but with a milestone release-- this chapter makes 95k for Book Five! The end of Book Five, next week's chapter, should push us over the 375k overall mark, and maybe even the 100k mark on Book Five, if we can get it long enough. Length isn't the object, though, it's the content that matters, and we hope this chapter really is worth the wait.
> 
> We have been waiting to write this chapter for a long time, and to get to put some of the parallels we've been hashing out and perfecting for years now into practice in this chapter was amazing. Seeing your ideas come to life is always fun, but it's extra fun when they work out just how you planned! :)
> 
> Enjoy this chapter (as much as it can be enjoyed) and we'll see you next Friday with Chapter 23 and the end of Book Five! Then, it's on to Book Six, and ignoring that the end of Rewrite is coming, and it's a lot closer than anyone really thought.
> 
> Much love, and feel free to yell at us.
> 
> -S&L

_“SIRIUS!”_

Harry had known Remus Lupin his entire life. He had been the family’s go-to babysitter when he was a child. He had tucked him at night in more times than Harry could count. His jagged, raised scars and tired eyes had been normal to him and, as a child, Harry had never quite understood why strangers flinched away from them. Remus Lupin was one of the kindest people Harry had ever known, always looking to put others above himself. He’d fought all of Harry’s fears away without once looking scared.

Had he been?

Had Harry ever seen Remus really, truly scared?

Because in all the years Harry had known him, he had never heard Remus scream like that.

Remus shoved past a stumbling Death Eater, lunging desperately for the dais even as Harry’s mother grabbed him around the waist. She pulled him back toward her, and even from across the room, Harry could see the green of her eyes as she stared at the veil in horror.

“What’s-- what’s back there?” Harry asked, despite being mostly sure that he didn’t want to hear the answer.

No one responded.

The remaining Death Eaters were still fighting, spells and hexes and curses flying through the air. The bright flashes of color crashed against the walls, smashing stone and throwing unrecognizable figures to the floor.

Kingsley had taken over Sirius’ duel with Bellatrix, who was still laughing madly. Dumbledore had begun rounding up a large amount of Death Eaters, who seemed to be bound by some sort of invisible rope.

“Is-- Is Sirius dead?” Harry asked nervously, and when he received no reply, he knew what was beyond the veil. Sirius was never coming back. That was impossible. He’d never let Harry down before. He wouldn’t disappear on them.

He wouldn’t.

“Harry!” Lily had let go of Remus, who was staring blankly at the veil, mouth hanging open in shock. She seemed reluctant to leave him, but was staring at her son with a desperate look.

Harry spotted Kingsley crashing to the floor, and Bellatrix’s retreating form. He tore his gaze away from his mother, running toward Bellatrix.

“Bring him _back_!” Harry roared, casting a spell in Bellatrix’s direction. “Bring him _back_!”

“Hari!” Lily shouted after him, footsteps pounding against the floor as she gave chase. “Hari, stop!”

Bellatrix’s robes whipped out of sight, her laughter the only indication of where she had gone. Harry found himself back in the brain room, leaping over a groaning Luna. Ron was curled on the floor, giggling feebly as Ginny attempted to rouse him, but she looked up as Harry sprinted past her.

“Harry?!”

Harry kept running after Bellatrix. He had to find her. He had to make her pay for what she’d done. No one hurt his uncles and got away with it.

He wrenched open the door to the circular room, but by the time he’d made it inside, Bellatrix had disappeared into the hallway leading to the lifts. The door she was running out of slammed behind her, and the walls began to rotate once more.

“Which way is the exit?” Harry asked, just in case the room was sentient.

A door swung open and Harry ran full speed toward it, wondering why none of them had thought to just ask the room before. He sped into one of the elevator and hit the button to the atrium as many times as he could, as if that would speed up the doors closing and the upward motion of the elevator.

He forced his way out of the lift before the gates were fully open. Bellatrix was nearly at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but turned to throw another spell at him as he sprinted towards her. She didn’t seem to be focusing on aiming, as several hexes flew past him and smashed into the golden gates against the far wall.

Harry ducked behind the fountain a few feet to his left, sucking in heaving breaths as he waited for Bellatrix’s next move.

But there were no footsteps. No spells.

She had stopped running.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang sweetly, the sound shattering the silence. “Aren’t you here to avenge my dear cousin, little boy? What’s hiding going to do?”

It felt like a trap. But then, Harry had no reason to trust himself on that count-- hadn’t he walked right into one just hours earlier, and brought his friends along? Bellatrix offering herself up just felt too clean cut. There had to be something else, some kind of catch.

“Little baby Potter,” she sang again. Slow, measured footsteps began to echo through the hall. “Did you love him?”

“Yeah. I loved him.” Harry said, and the very act of saying it aloud made him want to scream. “More than you’ve ever loved anything, for sure.”

“Is that anger? Is that malice?” She let out another peal of giggles, which doubled back against the arching ceiling. It was almost as though he was surrounded by her laughter. “And here I thought you were the little golden boy. Go on, baby. Show me what you’re made of!”

Harry pointed his wand at her, not knowing what to say. As usual, a string of words burst forth anyway. “You killed him! You killed him and you laughed it off!”

“He deserved to die!” She grinned at him, and, in that moment, Harry realized that she fully believed what she was saying. “A filthy traitor like him! He was never fit to carry the Black name!”

“Because he was better than that!” Harry spat. “He was better than the heaping mound of rotten rubbish you call a family!”

She hissed, her wand suddenly pointed directly at him. “You dare insult us? When your own family is so tainted?! Give me the prophecy and perhaps your end will be a painless one!”

“It’s gone.” Harry said firmly. “The prophecy. It’s gone.”

“What?” Her voice dropped dangerously.

“It’s gone.” Harry repeated. “It broke, and it’s gone.”

“You’re lying. YOU’RE LYING!” She stalked forward, brandishing her wand. “LIAR! YOU’VE GOT IT!”

“I haven’t!” Harry said, stumbling backward. “The prophecy is gone!”

“LIAR!” She shrieked. “Accio prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!”

She let out a savage scream when nothing happened. “MASTER! MASTER, I TRIED! DON’T PUNISH ME-”

“He isn’t here!” Harry yelled, looking around him in fear. “He isn’t here!”

“Aren’t I, Potter?”

Harry’s blood ran cold in his veins. He turned, slowly, and a shiver ran down his spine.

A snake-like face stared at him from beneath a black hood. Red, slitted eyes fixed him to the spot.

“You smashed my prophecy?” He asked in a high, cold voice.

“Your prophecy?” Harry said, without thinking. “Finders keepers.”

Voldemort’s nostrils flared. “No… Bella, he isn’t lying. I’ve been in his worthless mind for months… All that preparation… All that effort… And my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again.”

“Master, Master, I’m sorry, I did not know!” Bellatrix sobbed, flinging herself at Voldemort’s feet. “Master-”

“Be quiet.” He said. “I’ll deal with you in a moment. I haven’t come here to hear your snivelling apologies.”

“But Master- Master, he is here- below-”

He ignored her.

“I have nothing more to say to you, Potter.” He said, almost casually. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Harry was frozen in shock. Was this how it would end? After everything that had happened today?

Hadn’t his parents lost enough?

But the golden wizard from the fountain suddenly sprung to life, leaping forward and landing between Harry and Voldemort. The spell glanced off its chest.

“What-” Voldemort turned, a dangerous emotion filtering across his gaunt face.

Harry turned to look behind him, and standing in front of the golden gates was his mother.

Lily Evans-Potter stepped forward slowly, her red hair falling around her face in wild waves. Her green eyes were narrowed dangerously, and her gaze never faltered from Voldemort’s own. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

“Amma, don’t!” Harry called out.

She stepped forward, raising an arm as she placed herself between her son and the Dark Lord. Harry was struck once more by the fact that he was taller than his mother.

“Harry, sweetheart,” Lily said calmly, “now would be a good time to leave, don’t you think?”

“The filthy mudblood, here to protect her child.” Voldemort tilted his head to the side, eyeing them with obvious disdain.

“Nobody’s filthy here but you two.” Harry growled. “Don’t say a word about my mother.”

“Harry, hide behind the statue.” Lily said, reaching behind her to give him a slight push.

Harry nodded, eyes wide in shock, and scrambled over to the statue to wedge himself into a small gap behind it.

“Do you really think you can protect him from me?”

“Nothing you say means anything.” Lily said calmly. “My husband bested you once, and if you think I can’t as well, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I underestimated your husband-- an easy thing to do, what with him being as pathetic as he is. I assure you, it isn’t a mistake I’m likely to make twice.” Voldemort’s voice slithered through the echoing chamber as he began to walk forward.

“Try me.” Lily quirked an eyebrow, only shifting to keep herself between her son and the Dark Lord. She twirled her wand in a tight circle, keeping eye contact with Voldemort even as another statue from the fountain came back to life.

It lunged at Voldemort, who deflected it with a twitch of his wand, sending the golden figure smashing into the opposite wall. Lily was quick to follow up with a long whip of fire.

Harry watched it burst from the tip of his mother’s wand and snap towards Voldemort. There was a sudden thud as the flickering flames solidified into a snake as black as pitch. It spilled across the floor like a sentient splatter of ink, slithering off into the shadows.

When Harry snapped his gaze back to where Voldemort had stood, he found empty space.

Voldemort had disappeared.

“Master!” screamed Bellatrix, abandoned yet again by her beloved leader.

It was over. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. Harry took a few shaky steps toward his mother, legs threatening to give way beneath him, leaving behind the statue he’d been told to hide behind.

“Hari! Stay back!” She shouted.

“But-- why?” Harry asked, as he scanned the room in confusion. He knew Bellatrix was a danger, knew revealing himself was trouble, but he wanted nothing more than to feel his mother’s presence beside him, to hide behind her rather than the cold, unforgiving stone of some stupid statue.

The hall was empty.

Why was she worried?

The pain came on so suddenly that Harry collapsed to the floor, a scream tearing itself out of his throat. He must be dying-- there was no other explanation. It felt as if something had sunk its teeth into his flesh, ripping him open in every direction possible at once. He felt as if his brain had turned into mush, leaking out through his ears, but when he tried to bring his hands up to stop it, to salvage what little of it remained, his fingers wouldn’t obey him, cramping and bending in ways he knew they shouldn’t.

Were they still in the hall? Or had he been brought to the graveyard again, to finish what Voldemort had started just a short year ago? Harry couldn’t see-- everything was black, the nauseatingly tight, warm blanket of pain choking the life out of his senses. He should have known the escape was only temporary. He should have known it wouldn’t last.

He should have known he was going to die anyway.

Through all the agony, he felt his mouth form words he could never even imagine saying himself.

“Why don’t you kill me now, Lily Evans?”

His mother’s face appeared above him, wild red hair framing her frantic expression. “Harry?!”

“I made a mistake in underestimating you, did I? You can’t even kill me.” Harry felt the corners of his lips turn up into a sick smile as he thrashed, trying to free himself. “Doesn’t your dear Dumbledore tell you that death is nothing to fear? Why can’t you just kill the boy?”

She pressed her hands to his temples, Harry’s brain stringing together a few memories of safety and warmth before whoever was in his head rudely extinguished the feeling, and lowered her forehead against his own. Her lips formed silent, desperate words, words he wished he could hear over the roaring of blood in his ears.

Harry’s vision cleared abruptly, the pain ceasing as if a switch had been flipped, and he could feel the cold floor against his face. What had happened? It hardly felt real, now that it was over, a fuzzy nightmare he’d be happy to forget.

There were more voices than there had been, and Harry almost couldn’t take it. He could see his glasses, which he didn’t remember losing, lying just a few feet away, and he gestured to them weakly.

“Wh--Where’s Voldemort?” Harry asked hesitantly. His whole body was shaking, and any attempts at holding his head up were completely in vain. How could he face his friends like this? How could he face Voldemort like this, if he wasn’t truly gone? “Where’d he go? He was-- he was just here and--”

The fireplaces along the wall lit up and Harry shifted closer to his mother. Were there more of them? Was this how they would make their final stand?

The Atrium filled further, in the next few minutes, but not with the people Harry was expecting.

“You Know Who!” Gasped a ministry worker in disheveled robes. “I saw him- near the fountain! He grabbed a woman and disappeared.”

“I saw.” said the grave voice of the Minister of Magic.

“The Department of Mysteries.” Lily said, gathering Harry closer to her as though she was still hellbent on protecting him from an absent enemy. “If you go down there, you’ll find plenty of Death Eaters in the chamber with the veil.”

“Excuse me?” Fudge turned to Lily, shock apparent in his expression.

“Do you need me to repeat myself?” She snapped, the gently press of her hands against Harry’s shoulder a direct contrast to the fire in her tone.

Fudge seemed to sense that she was not to be crossed, and turned to a group of staring aurors.

“Go to the Death Chamber.” He ordered. “Report back as soon as you can. And you, Mrs. Potter. What on Earth happened here?”

Lily ignored him, gently tugging Harry to his feet. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” She asked softly.

“Yeah.” Harry said, despite feeling as if he’d faint if he so much as thought about walking. “Can we go home, please?”

“Of course.” Lily said, already turning to leave.

“Now, wait just a minute!”

“Mr. Fudge.” Lily said with a polite smile, and Harry watched the minister take an involuntary step back. His mother had a talent for scaring people. “I would appreciate it if you would kindly get out of my way. You see, I just finished fighting Voldemort-- the man whose existence you’ve been denying for the better part of the last year-- and I’m in a rather violent mood. I promise you, if you so much as say a word to me, I will rip your tongue out and make you swallow it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Amma-- That’s illegal.” Harry said, blinking in surprise.

“Let’s go, Harry.” Her hand around his was gentle as she pulled him to the fireplaces.

The last thing Harry saw through the flames was Fudge’s dumbfounded expression.

* * *

 

Harry’s feet hit solid ground again, his knees buckling beneath him. His stomach roiled, and he bent forward slightly, feeling as if he might throw up.

“Well.” James Potter said, pushing his glasses back up his nose, his voice perfectly even. “I guess it’s not game night anymore, is it?”

“Aw man.” Drew mumbled. “I was totally gonna win this time.”

Matt rushed forward, placing his hands against Harry’s shoulders in an attempt to steady him. “Hari Anna?”

“Oh come off it, Madhu.” Anne snapped. Her arms were crossed over her chest. “No one wants to tell us anything, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that Hari’s gone and done something unbelievably stupid. Again.”

“Anjali.” Lily snapped as she stepped from the fire.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, I definitely did.” Harry said, leaning heavily on Matt as he made his way toward the end of the couch. “This one is entirely on me.”

“How many people have died this time?” She asked snidely.

“Anjali.” Lily repeated, her eyes darting to James for a fraction of a second.

“Current estimates are three to five.” Harry replied. “Not really sure. Definitely one.”

“Three to five.” James repeated, frowning. “Adi, Anju, Madhu, come on. Bedtime.”

“What?!” Drew got to his feet, eyes wide. “You can’t say something like that and then send us to bed!”

Madhu was already halfway to the stairs, hands clamped over his ears as though trying to physically block out what had already been said. “Good night!” He shouted.

“I’m not going!” Anne snapped.

“You are going.” James said, pointing toward the stairs. “If you’d like to go on your own, take the opportunity I’m giving you now. If not, I’ll gladly make sure you get all the way to bed. Right now, Anjali.”

She glared at them, and rubbed at her eyes. Judging by the bags under them, this likely wasn’t the first fight she’d started about bedtime recently. She got up, storming after her brothers silently.

“Welcome to the teenage years, right? Now that that’s… handled, will one of you tell me what’s going on?” James said, looking to Lily first, then Harry. “Three to five doesn’t sound like the best case scenario.” The estimated death toll, having been less of a joke than James thought it was, didn’t garner any laughs. “So you were serious.” His eyebrows drew together. “That’s not good at all.”

“James… Maybe you should sit down.” Lily didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and eventually wrapped them around herself.

“Sit down?” James repeated, confused. “What happened? You’re both alright, right?”

“Uncle Sirius fell through the veil.” Harry said, resolutely staring at his own feet. His trainers were in horrific shape, and they had been getting too small for his feet anyhow. He’d have to replace them. Somehow, thinking about small things made ignoring the reality of his situation infinitely easier. He only wished he’d found this strategy earlier in life. “He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry?” James said, a strangled laugh clawing its way out of his throat. “He’s gone and done what now?”

Harry looked up to see his father staring at his mother in surprise, the ghost of a smile ready and waiting to sweep over his entire face. He thinks we’re joking, Harry realized, and his heart dropped straight down into his toes, melting into a puddle of sludge.

“Sirius… He’s dead, James. I-- There was a fight, with the Death Eaters, and he fell through some sort of… veil.” Lily’s words came haltingly, a stark contrast compared to the way she had spoken to Voldemort and Fudge earlier.

“Sirius?” James said, stumbling backward. The backs of his legs hit the couch with a thump and he sat down heavily, eyes wide in surprise. “He-- he can’t be. He’s not. Do you really think a curtain is what’s going to take that stubborn son of a bitch down? A curtain, Lily. No way.” He laughed mirthlessly, trying desperately to make himself believe his own words. “We lived through a war, Lily, it’s not some stupid curtain that’s going to get him.”

She stepped forward, placing her hand against his shoulder before slowly sinking down to sit on the couch beside him. “I’m so sorry, James.” She whispered.

“You’ve got to be lying.” James said, eyes filling with tears. “That’s a fucked up way to die. That’s not how it was supposed to happen. We were all supposed to be old and half dead anyways and…” He trailed off, hiding his face in Lily’s shoulder. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

She placed a hand on his head. “I know. None of this is supposed to be happening. Sirius… He’s…”

Harry felt as if he were intruding upon something private. He’d heard all the stories alongside his siblings, more often from Uncle Sirius than his father, about their childhood mischief and how Sirius had just come to stay one break and never left. His father had always been quiet when the past came up, choosing to pretend to do something nearby with a mischievous grin on his face while Sirius recounted past pranks to the children. On the rare occasions he’d joined in, James had made one thing clear-- Sirius was a brother to him, and wherever Sirius went, he’d be close behind.

But this was one place he couldn’t follow, wasn’t it?

Harry scooted closer to his parents, and James, feeling the shift in weight, took a deep breath and sat up straight.

“You okay there?” He asked, clumsily pasting on a smile for Harry’s benefit. James Potter had never been a good actor, when it came to the ones he loved. “You were there, weren’t you? When it happened? That’s-- that’s tough, seeing something like that.”

Harry nodded, sniffling. He chewed on his lower lip, averting his eyes, and instantly felt himself swept up into his father’s warm embrace.

“It’s going to be alright. We’ll figure this out.” James said, and, as always, Harry believed it.

“Have you seen Remus?” James asked, pulling away from Harry, who, suddenly bereft, tried to burrow further into the couch. Before Lily could respond, he stood up, wiping his eyes on his sleeve before facing the fireplace, a determined expression on his face. “I should go find him. He-- he can’t be alone right now. He needs me, you know?”

Lily’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment before she shook her head. “No, I-- I heard him, when Sirius fell through the veil, but I was fighting Voldemort, and I needed to get Harry away… I…” She placed a hand over her eyes, drawing in a long breath. “Okay. Okay, we need to… Bring him here. He can’t go home alone.”

“Yeah. I should-- I’ll--” James gestured toward the fireplace, and was about to grab a pinch of Floo Powder off the mantel when the flames within the fireplace turned a bright green.

“Are you alone?” Dumbledore’s voice echoed from the fireplace.

“Harry, Lily and I are here.” James said, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “If that’s what you mean.”

“Step back, if you would be so kind. I’m coming through.” A moment later he emerged from the fireplace, looking between the three of them. “I trust your other children are safe?”

“Upstairs.” James said. “Harry’s here. Sarah’s at school still. We should get her too, I don’t want her by herself when she hears that--” He rubbed a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. “I need to go get her now, if you don’t mind. Remus as well.”

“I’m afraid we have a more pressing matter at hand.” Dumbledore sighed. “Sarah is safe where she is-- I’m certain she won’t hear anything before you have time to collect her.”

“What’s more pressing than my daughter’s safety?” James crossed his arms over his chest.

“Your son’s.”


	23. Nothing Good Lasts Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily reached out, gently rolling up the oversized sleeve. Somehow, even though she knew what she would find, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Always respect authority was carved into Sarah’s dark skin in her own neat handwriting. 
> 
> “Oh, Charu.” She whispered, already moving to pull her daughter into a hug. “Oh, Charu, I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! A little later than projected or expected, but we're here, and that's what matters!
> 
> This is a double milestone chapter-- we're passing up 375k (and 380k, for that matter) overall, and this chapter puts us over 100k words on ROTR. We never thought it would be this huge, but there's more heavyweights coming as we draw close to the end of this series. It feels weird to finally say it. The end of the series. Wow.
> 
> Within this chapter, there is a depiction of dissociation. If that bothers you, please skip the beginning of Scene Two, down to "Excuse me, ma'am?". That should about do it. Otherwise, usual warnings for canon typical angst and sadness. Scene Two especially hits hard-- we both cried at least once, offering up increasingly ridiculous justifications, while writing it.
> 
> It's a sad end to a sad story, but better things are on their way-- see you all in Book Six, Harry Potter and the Cursed Locket, next Friday.
> 
> -S&L

“I guess this is the part where we ask you to sit down.” James said, motioning to the largely empty couch. “So feel free to sit down. Excuse the mess and lack of manners. My best friend apparently took himself on a walk right into hell.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I understand this is a hard time for you, but… I’m afraid this is only the beginning.” Dumbledore said.

“Yeah. I am too.” James said, sitting down beside Lily. She reached out, taking his hands in her own. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, something indecipherable in his eyes, and then turned back to Dumbledore. “Right. Seeing as nobody’s brought me fully up to speed, I’m hoping you will.”

“The Order was alerted to a disturbance at the ministry, through some of our undercover contacts. We dispatched a team, as you’re aware. When we arrived, we found a group of students-- your son included-- battling against a group of significant Death Eaters. Sirius was killed in the midst of battle, but all other casualties were limited, luckily.” He clasped his hands together, finally taking a seat across from the Potters. “We’ve collected the other students. Harry, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that all your friends will be fine with some rest.”

“Yeah-- I’m glad, that’s good.” Harry said. “They won’t be in any trouble, right? Because I did it. I forced their hands. They wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t make them.” Dumbledore looked more amused than anything as he continued. “If you’re going to expel anyone, it should be me. I mean, I snuck six people, including myself, out of school, started a battle that got a family member killed, and probably lost my father his job.” He looked over at James sheepishly. “Sorry Appa.”

“I was getting tired of you kids anyway.” James said, though his expression remained neutral. No one in the Potter family was in the mood for jokes, but due to some unexplainable compulsion, they all continued making them. Perhaps it was purely born from habit, or it was a coping mechanism all of them had mysteriously adopted. “Back to the matter at hand. What’s this about his safety being at risk?”

“I’m referring to Voldemort, of course. The fact that he feels confident enough to attack Harry at the Ministry of Magic… I’m afraid this doesn’t bode well.” Dumbledore stroked the end of his beard thoughtfully.

“He’s been a bit of a constant lately.” James replied dryly. “Remember when we thought he was dead? That was nice.”

“Seconded. I suppose this war is about killing him all over again.” Lily murmured.

“Thirded. Let’s make him dead again.” James agreed.

“You actually just say seconded again, dear.” Lily told him. “Thirded isn’t a thing.”

“English is stupid.” James said. “Anyway, now that we’ve got a plan--”

“Lily, I’ve heard some conflicting reports on the nature of Voldemort’s departure. If you would be so kind as to summarize…?” Dumbledore turned to Lily, who tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

“One moment, we were fighting-- I don’t know. I took my eyes off of him for a moment to make sure Harry was alright, and then he was gone and… and Harry…” The events of the day seemed to finally catch up with Lily, and her green eyes slowly filled with tears. James squeezed her hand tightly, as if to remind her he was there. He whispered something in her ear, too softly to be overheard, and she began to speak again. “He was shouting and… in pain. He spoke to me with Voldemort’s voice… He was possessed and I… I didn’t know what to do so I used Legilimency--” She cut off on a choked sob, shoving a knuckle into her mouth in an attempt to muffle herself. James ran a hand up and down her back, looking absolutely devastated.

Living it had been one thing, but hearing his mother’s account was almost more painful. Harry curled in on himself, barely conscious of his father pulling one of his hands away from his mother to wrap his arm around Harry’s shoulders. James pulled Harry into his side, Harry’s head resting on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, kanna.” He whispered into Harry’s ear. Harry could feel the way his father’s body was shaking subtly, trying desperately to deal with the weight of the information forced upon it in such a short time. Even then, his first thoughts were for Harry, were about helping him and guarding him. Maybe that one moment at fifteen hadn’t been a fair choice on which to judge his father’s whole life. “We should’ve known.”

“You didn’t.” Harry replied. “None of us did.”

“Possession… Yes. Voldemort is a talented Legilimens, as you know.” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m afraid this isn’t the first time this has happened. It usually manifests in ways that are easier to notice. Voices, dreams…”

“Dreams?” Harry blurted out. “I’ve had a lot of those.”

“Such as…?” Dumbledore frowned.

“It was the whole reason we went to the Department of Mysteries.” Harry said, staring at his knees. They were rather knobbly, weren’t they? He’d probably grow out of it. His father and grandfather had, so things were looking good for him. “I kept having dreams where I’d be running down the hallway to the first door, and then others about the shelves of prophecies. And when we got there, we found one with my name on it.”

Dumbledore got to his feet, clasping his hands behind him as he paced away from the Potters. “The prophecy… We thought it might have been what he wanted, but there was no way to know for sure…”

“Amma?” Harry asked, looking to his mother. “Why did it have my name on it?”

“Prophecies… They carry the names of those they’re about, sweetheart.” She murmured, tears still gathered at the corners of her eyes.

“That’s what I thought, but-- wait-- there’s a prophecy?” Harry asked, wide eyed. 

“There was, is a more accurate wording, considering you seem to have smashed it.” Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, knitting his fingers together. “It was why your parents had to go into hiding during the first war, of course. You were born to defeat Voldemort.”

“You knew?” Harry asked Dumbledore, eyes wide. “You knew this was going to happen the whole time, that he was going to keep coming after me, and you didn’t do anything?”

“Some secrets are not worth telling, Harry. It was safer to keep the truth from you as long as we could.” Dumbledore said gravely.

“You’ve known for years.” Harry said, awestruck in the worst way possible. His parents had always worked tirelessly to teach him to have faith in those with power over him while remembering they couldn’t be omnipotent, but it was one thing to make mistakes and another to purposely lead children into danger. “And you haven’t prepared or anything, until this year. What, was me getting kidnapped the final straw?” Harry saw his father wince out of the corner of his eye, felt it in way his grip tightened on Harry’s shoulder. “Was me getting tortured the final straw? Was that what you needed to get you to care?” 

Dumbledore said nothing, but stared solemnly at Harry. 

“And it wasn’t just that was it? Kids were getting tortured right under your nose this year, and you did nothing.” Harry said. “Fred and George Weasley. Lee Jordan. Me.” He pushed back the sleeve of his sweater, which had been hanging over his hand all this time, revealing the now scarred “I must not tell lies” scrawled into his skin in his own handwriting. It was a darker brown than the rest of his hand, a small blessing when compared to the angry, bright red it had been for weeks. “And--” His voice broke. “She won’t confirm it, but my sister’s on that list too. And we’ve all left her alone with Umbridge.” He grimaced, disgusted. “Seems like Hogwarts just fucks kids up instead of protecting them, doesn’t it?”

Lily suddenly jerked to her feet, movements lacking their usual grace. There was a sort of manic look in her eyes as she turned towards the fireplace. “I’m getting Sarah. Now.”

“You know, in a way, I’m kind of glad to know there’s a reason.” Harry mused aloud. “I’m kind of glad to know that it’s not random. Because now I can actually prepare myself, you know? Instead of wondering which of my friends he’s going to try to kill next. I can go out there and finish it myself. And isn’t that what everybody wants?”

“Hari.” His father said sharply, thick eyebrows drawn together. “That is enough.”

“What, you’re on his side?” Harry asked, eyes wide in surprise.

“No.” James Potter said, his mouth set in a grim line. “Even so, he deserves some respect. After all, he did leave us out to dry this year until his hand was forced to protect his own reputation.” Dumbledore’s mouth gaped wide, like a fish caught on a hook, but James spoke again before he could defend himself. “My son and I had our names dragged through the mud, and what for? You kept all the proof that he was back to yourself and only offered up empty words to the press, in the end. He’s fifteen, Dumbledore. He’s not a soldier, and neither are we, despite your best efforts. Please leave.”

“James, I understand you’re upset. Tonight has been… more than words can describe, I’m afraid.” Dumbledore got to his feet, attempting to sound consoling. 

“I will not have this in my home.” James Potter said sternly, pointing toward the fireplace. He grit his teeth. “Please leave. I understand there’s more to speak about. But we’ll decide when. He won’t be returning to school with you tonight. It’s for the best, seeing as we’ve done a much better job of taking care of our son than you have.”

Dumbledore dipped his head, finally, and turned to leave. “I’ll send word when we plan the next meeting.” He murmured, before disappearing in a flare of green flame.

* * *

Lily was running on fumes.

Logically, she was aware that she had stolen into the Department of Mysteries and faced down Voldemort only a few hours ago. Yet, somehow, it seemed a million miles away. Had it even happened at all? 

She should have been upset. There had been shouting, between James and Dumbledore. And Harry, too, she realized with a start. Normally she would have been right in the thick of it, throwing barbed words that dug deeper than any spell could. But it had been as though she were watching through murky water. 

How long ago had that been? She vaguely recalled hurrying through the fireplace, and she ought to have gone straight to McGonagall, or the head of Ravenclaw house. Yet somehow she had ended up in front of a large wooden door with a brass knocker. It was shaped like an eagle. 

The door to the Ravenclaw common room stood before her. Yes, that was why she was here. She only knew the location because she’d had a friend in Ravenclaw, back when she was a student. Pandora. She had been a funny girl, with pale blonde hair that had fallen in waves around her face. Always making little knick-knacks. They’d been partners in Potions for years, the only two who could keep up with each other. 

She’d married that Xenophilius fellow, had a beautiful daughter, and then gone and gotten herself killed. 

Just like all of Lily’s friends seemed to do. 

The door was without a keyhole or doorknob, just as she remembered from her years at Hogwarts. She reached up and banged the knocker.

“This statement is false.” The knocker intoned.

“What?” Lily felt a furrow appear between her brows as she stared at the door. “Listen, I just need to get inside to speak with my daughter.”

“This statement is false.” Repeated the door knocker.

Lily was only a few seconds away from banging her head against the door, when her increasingly bleak thoughts were interrupted. 

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

She turned to find a student standing a few feet away, a bag slung over one shoulder. He couldn’t have been any older than Sarah, but was fairly tall. Brown eyes peeked out from beneath a mop of neatly combed and parted black hair. 

“Hello.” Lily finally said.

He cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders. He was dressed like a tiny businessman, in a button-up shirt and yellow cardigan. It looked distinctly like something James would wear, and a smile tugged at her lips despite herself. 

“Did you need something?” He asked. “Or, something I could help you with, that is.”

“Oh I’m just… I’m trying to get into the common room. I need to speak with my daughter.” She replied.

“Oh. Have you answered the riddle?” He asked.

“The riddle?”

“From the knocker.” He stepped forward, reaching up to bang the knocker again.

“This statement is false.”

“Oh. Hm.” His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he thought it over. “Your statement cannot be false, but neither can it be true. How can one weigh the value of facts that have never been established?” He finally answered.

The door swung open. 

He glanced up at her, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m sure you could have figured it out on your own.” He told her, slipping through the door into a common room circled with bookshelves. 

Lily hurried in, ignoring the odd looks she got as she scanned the room for her daughter. She spotted her by a window, deep in thought while she read a book nearly the size of her head, just as expected.

At nearly twelve and a half, Sarah was one of the taller first years, but the Gryffindor colored jumper she’d obviously stolen from her father, which hung halfway to her knees, made her look like she was swimming in scarlet fabric. Thankfully, no one in Ravenclaw seemed to mind that one of their own was sporting Gryffindor colors, or maybe they cared so little for her that they hadn’t noticed. The tips of her fingers barely showed beyond the too long sleeves, which she’d rolled up a few times, as she turned the page of the book she was resting on her knees, which were nearly pulled up to her chest. As if she were copying her youngest brother’s time honored strategy to avoid trouble, Sarah had found the least desirable nook in the common room and wedged herself into it.

Lily paused, suddenly overtaken by the memory of Sarah at a much younger age. Still drowning in clothes that she would grow into one day, a large picture book laid open across her lap. She’d spent almost half an hour diligently pretending to read the words that accompanied the bright pictures, even going so far as to flip the pages and nod to herself. It had been absolutely adorable, and Lily had almost let her continue instead of offering to read the book out loud. 

The moment was broken when Sarah was joined by the young man who had opened the door for Lily. He sat down beside her, pulling a package of sweets from his bag and holding them out to her. Sarah, as usual, politely refused, but shifted to make room for him beside her. 

This must be Kyung, she realized. 

“Sarah.” Lily called out, forcing her feet to carry her to her daughter.

“Why are you here?” Sarah asked, scrambling to her feet. In her hurry, she dropped her book, losing her place. She didn’t seem to give it a thought though, a clear indication that she’d been worried long before Lily had announced her presence. “Not that I’m not happy you’re here. I like seeing you. I’m just wondering. I’ll be home in a few days anyway.”

Lily felt her face pinch up slightly, no matter how hard she tried to keep calm. “Sarah, something happened. We need to go home right now, alright? We can… I’ll tell you in private, okay?” She murmured, gently reaching out to place her hands on Sarah’s arms. 

“Harry’s okay, right?” Sarah asked, voice only wavering a little. “Nothing happened to him?”

“Okay might be stretching it.” Lily murmured truthfully. “He’s alive, and physically unharmed, but… Honey, it’s a long story.”

“Okay.” Sarah nodded. “We can probably just talk upstairs. The room should be empty. Everybody’s either down here or out with friends.”

“Alright. You’ll need to get your things anyways.” Lily agreed, stepping back. Her eyes caught on the boy who had stood up at some point during their conversation. “You must be Kyung. It’s so nice to meet you, I--I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat.” 

Kyung nodded awkwardly, reaching out to tug briefly at Sarah’s sleeve. “I will let the professors know you will not be attending classes.” He murmured.

“Take good notes for me, alright?” She ruffled his hair, a rare display of affection. 

“Notes on what?” He asked. “Exams are over.”

“I shouldn’t make jokes, I’m guessing.”

“The day you develop a sense of humor is the day I manage to make sane friends.” Kyung offered the barest slip of a smile before heading towards the other side of the common room. 

“He’s a loser.” Sarah shrugged. “Come on, Amma. Let’s go.” She marched off toward the stairs that lead up to the girls’ dormitories, knocking on the first door before pulling it open. Only one girl remained, lying on her bed reading some sort of magazine, but she quickly left upon spotting Sarah, who, thankfully, didn’t seem to think much of it.

Lily’s eyes were immediately drawn to the only bed that was made up neatly. Piles of books surrounded it, and she wondered idly if the stacks on the bedside table were in danger of toppling down while Sarah slept. Sheafs of muggle paper poked out from a simple binder, and she easily recognized Matt’s messy handwriting. Slowly, she lowered herself down on top of the comforter. She patted at the blue fabric to indicate that Sarah should sit down beside her.

Sarah sat down hesitantly, a worried expression on her face. “What happened?”

“There was… Your brother... “ Lily took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Hari broke into the Ministry. I don’t know why, but it was a trap. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were waiting there to ambush them. The Order came and we got everyone out safely, but…” She faltered, clenching one fist on her lap even as she reached for Sarah’s hand. “Charu… Your uncle Sirius didn’t make it.”

“He didn’t-- What?” Sarah frowned, disbelieving. “He didn’t make it?”

“He went down fighting.” She whispered. “Remus is going to be staying with us for a little while.”

“He--He can’t have died.” Sarah said, trying desperately to find some reason in her mother’s statement. “That’s not how it works! That’s not how the plan was supposed to go. Hari said he was going to save him.” It didn’t occur to her that she’d just implicated both herself and her brother, but thankfully, Lily Evans Potter had already pre-emptively grounded all of the children, so consequences wouldn’t be forthcoming.

“You knew? You knew what Hari was doing?” She choked out the words like they hurt. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise-- her children had always ganged up together when they were up to something dangerous. 

“He-- he came and found me and told me to stay up here, in case word got out.” Sarah said, fidgeting nervously. “He knew it was hard for me at the beginning, and he didn’t want me to get in trouble.” She frowned. “She finds out everything that happens here, so… he tried, at least.”

“Who are you talking about, honey?” Lily asked gently. 

Sarah looked up at her mother, a soul deep tiredness in her eyes that made Lily’s heart ache. “Umbridge, Amma. Who else?”

Lily clenched her fist in her lap. “Charu... can I see your hands?”

“What for?” Sarah asked, frowning. “They’re just hands. Everybody’s got them.”

She reached out, gently taking her daughter’s hands, though she made no move to push up the sleeves of her sweater. 

Sarah squirmed nervously, pointedly not looking at her mother’s face. “What did he tell you anyway? I know Hari’s done something annoying, if you’ve come all the way here.”

“I’m here to take you home. We’ll all feel safer together, and… and right now, that’s important.” Lily told her. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

“What do you mean, help me?” Sarah pulled her hands away. “Nothing’s wrong. I mean, aside from the fact that you’ve just told me my uncle’s dead. And I don’t really think that’s sunk in yet. I feel like there should be a lot more crying happening than there is.”

“Sometimes it takes awhile to hit you. I think we’d all rather be at home when it does.” Lily sighed.

“Aside from all that, I’m fine. Normal school stress. That’s it.” Sarah shrugged before sitting on her hands. “If this is about being together, how come Appa isn’t here? Isn’t that his motto or something?” Her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I would’ve thought this would be his job. Wrangling the wayward children and such.”

“Your father is at home with Hari and the triplets. He’s… Well, you know how he is. He’s taking this harder than anyone, but pretending to be fine for all of our sakes.” Lily scrubbed a hand over her face. “You’re my daughter, Charu. I love you. And I know that no matter how much like me you are, that bit you got from your father.”

“What do you mean, that bit?” Sarah said. “I’m not very good at pretending anything. You’ve seen me in school plays, Amma. You don’t have to lie.”

“You bottle everything up inside and hope that no one will notice.” She smoothed a hand over Sarah’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Honey, I’m your mother. Please let me in.”

Sarah seemed to shrink in on herself, confusion written clearly all over her face. She stuck out her hand abruptly, after a moment’s thought. “Fine. You wanted it.”

Lily reached out, gently rolling up the oversized sleeve. Somehow, even though she knew what she would find, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Always respect authority was carved into Sarah’s dark skin in her own neat handwriting. 

“Oh, Charu.” She whispered, already moving to pull her daughter into a hug. “Oh, Charu, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s over.” Sarah shrugged, scooting further away. She pulled her sleeve back down over the back of her hand. “No use being sorry about it.”

“It should never have been allowed to happen.” Lily told her. “If I’d known…”

“If you’d known, then what? I’m supposed to believe everything would’ve stopped?” Sarah asked, only now looking her in the eye again. “All the teachers knew, and they just let it happen. None of them cared at all. And Appa was right there with the rest of them.”

“No! No, no, Charu.” Lily stared at her daughter with dawning horror. When she spoke, the words tumbled over one another as she forced them out of her mouth as quickly as possible. “He didn’t know. None of us knew-- you can’t believe that. If we had known, we never would have let this happen. Charu, your father would never let anyone do this to you. He didn’t know.”

When Sarah spoke again, she seemed barely able to form words. “You wanted one kid to stay out of trouble.” She said, wiping her eyes roughly. “I tried really hard. I promise.”

Lily pulled Sarah against her chest, pressing a kiss against her hair in an attempt to hide the tears in her own eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, honey. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“Nobody knew?” Sarah asked, trying bravely to sound as if she weren’t crying. “Really?”

“We had no idea. I’m so sorry, Charu.” She murmured, wishing she could fix this as easily she could a scraped knee or broken toy. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Amma.” Sarah said through her tears, patting her mother on the back. “It’s over now.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?” She stroked a hand through Sarah’s hair, still holding her close. 

“I’m used to it.” Sarah sniffled, then wiped her nose on her sleeve. “You’re not. I thought it would help.” 

“Let’s go home, Charu.” Lily said quietly. “I promise you’ll never have to see her again. I’ll handle everything.”

“Can I say bye to Kyung first?” She asked, scrubbing her sleeve roughly across her face. “He’ll be worrying.”

“Of course you can. I’ll get your trunk ready while you do, okay?” 

“Okay.” Sarah nodded, walking slowly toward the door. She unlocked it, and made her way carefully down the stairs, one hand clutching the railing as she stared down at the steps below her. Finding Kyung was easy enough-- he’d set up shop in the same nook she’d been hiding in. She sat down beside him, not caring that she still looked ready to burst into tears at a moment’s notice.

“Hey.” She said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Write me. Over the summer.”

“Are you okay?” He lowered his voice, shuffling closer so they wouldn’t be overheard. “There are only a few days left, so it must be important if your mother came to get you.”

“Let’s make a list, shall we?” Sarah said. “My uncle’s dead, thanks to my brother and I. My brother told on Umbridge, so my parents know about that now. The only time I cried was about myself. So, track record’s looking excellent so far. Might unseat Harry for the Self-centered Arsehole Award.”

Kyung seemed to think over her words for a moment, frowning slightly. He had never been very comfortable with physical displays of affection, a sentiment that Sarah shared, so she was surprised when he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “You have been through a lot this year. I think that stronger men than you would have cried by now. Is there anything I can do?” He asked seriously.

“You listened.” Sarah said. “That’s a lot to begin with. Just write over the summer, I guess. The boys will drive me crazy, and that’s without factoring Anne in. I’ll need some distraction.”

“Of course. I will be in Korea for the summer.” He told her. “So you know what address to expect.”

Lily appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Sarah’s trunk floating behind her. 

“I will see you in September?” Kyung said, eyebrows furrowed. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Sarah nodded. 

“Yeah.” She said, though she sounded quite unsure. “I’ll see you in September.”

* * *

Lily Evans-Potter was a wonderful person. She was kind, funny, pretty, and incredibly talented. 

She was also terrifying when she was angry.

“Albus Dumbledore, you had better be prepared to send several people to the unemployment office!” She shouted, slamming open the front door of Grimmauld Place. 

“Well, isn’t this a nice family outing.” James Potter said, a bright smile on his face. 

“Don’t say it too loudly.” Harry cautioned. “She’ll hear you.”

“And then we’ll all be in for it.” James agreed. “Your mother knows her way around a wand better than any of us, that’s for sure.”

“You can’t cover for that slimy piece of shit anymore! I saw him in the Department of Mysteries!” She snapped, slamming her hand down on the table that Dumbledore was calmly seated at. “I am sick and tired of Severus Snape parading around like we don’t all know he’s a goddamn Death Eater!”

“Well, I suppose that’s our sign to start the meeting.” Dumbledore said, barely maintaining decorum. “Order members only, please.”

“Alright kids.” James said sternly. “Out. Those of you who need a snack, grab something from the kitchen now. We don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“That’s right, kids. Out with you.” Molly Weasley agreed.

“What? No way! We have every right to be here.” Ron exclaimed, pausing in his motion to greet Harry. 

“Why should we have to wait outside?” Hermione asked. “I understand the younger ones, but we’ve actually fought him once. We’re qualified.”

“You aren’t seventeen yet, which means you can’t be members of the Order.” Lily sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “It’s for your own safety.”

“Hari.” James said. “Stay close. Someone will come get you to explain…” James waved his hand. “You know.”

“All of it?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.” James nodded. “That part.”

“Enough complaining! Out with you.” Mrs. Weasley shooed the three of them from the room, shutting and locking the kitchen door behind them.

“Anyone know what they’re talking about?” Ron grumbled, casting an annoyed scowl back towards the door. 

“Provisions.” Harry said. His parents, who seemed to be delighting in breaking every rule Dumbledore had set even more than before, had sat him down before they left home to discuss what they’d be proposing during the meeting. “Now that he’s come after me in the Ministry, we know he’s only one more lab accident from declaring war.”

“Lab accident?” Ron frowned at Harry as they stepped into one of Grimmauld Place’s many sitting rooms. 

“It’s ‘cause he’s a supervillain, Ron.” Hermione said. “It’s a Muggle reference.”

“I know my parents are trying to figure out what to do with Muggleborns and their families, if something happens. Your dad said he’s heard whisperings around the Ministry that don’t sound too good, Ron.” Harry said. “I’ll make sure yours are the first on the list, Hermione.”

“That would be nice, yes.” Hermione nodded stiffly.

“Right! Uh, how’s your Uncle Remus doing?” Ron piped up suddenly. “I mean… Y’know. After what happened.”

“He’s… I guess he’s doing as well as he can be.” Harry shrugged. “Having my dad around helped, I think. They both miss him a lot more than anybody else. Mum’s gotten him to eat two out of three meals for the past three days, so that’s something.”

“It must be hard. Losing someone that close to you…” Ron sighed, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “I’ll bet it does.”

The front door unlocked and swung open, and Harry, Ron and Hermione ran to check who had entered. Luckily, it was an expected bunch of faces-- the Longbottoms, all looking equally nervous, were shuffling their feet, trying to remember where the meeting was being held. 

“Have we missed the start?” Frank asked, and Harry nodded. 

“They’re in the kitchen.” He said. “Probably waiting on you to get going.”

“Good lad.” Frank said, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Good to see you with your friends, given what happened.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry said nervously. “It’s a good thing.”

“Frank, leave him alone.” Alice Longbottom said with a chuckle. “The poor boy’s scared out of his mind. Neville, why don’t you keep your friends company?”

“Would’ve even if you didn’t tell me to.” Neville said brightly.

Beyond a few bruises, he looked unharmed, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Good. As much as possible, Neville had escaped. Fate hadn’t been so kind to Harry’s friends. The brains that had attacked Ron in the Department of Mysteries had left deep welts running in tendril-like spirals up either of his arms. Ron had made a comment about girls liking scars, but had otherwise kept quiet on the matter. Ron and Hermione both had lost so much at Harry’s hands. He studied his hands as Neville ambled toward him, the sharp sound of his footsteps softened by the carpet. Worn down nails, thin, long fingers, knobbly knuckles-- in short, the same hands he had always had.

Maybe this talent for havoc had always been within him, just like the prophecy. Maybe it was for the best that he’d been separated off by it, an invisible line drawn between him and his friends. Maybe he’d hurt less people if he just accepted this fate for himself and himself only instead of mobilizing an army.

If it was supposed to be just him and Voldemort in the end, then why shouldn’t it be just him and Voldemort now?

Neville looked over his shoulder at the closed kitchen door and then leaned over, as if to steal a kiss. Harry stepped abruptly to the side at the last moment, catching Neville’s hands in his. Neville looked relieved to see Harry, even happy. Harry’s heart rose into his throat. He couldn’t do it. He knew he had to, but he couldn’t.

“We need to talk, Nev.” He said softly, his words coming out strangled. “There’s a lot to say.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, who, despite looking as if they weren’t listening, definitely were. “Hey, Ron, Hermione, could you… give us a minute?”

“Like what?” Neville asked, fear drowning out the relief that Harry had prized, only seconds before. “About what, Harry?”

“We can’t see each other anymore.” Harry said, deciding to just rip off the bandaid, once Ron and Hermione were out of earshot. “I can’t tell you why right now, but I promise, when this is all over, I’ll explain everything.”

“What-- What do you mean?” Neville asked. “Harry, you can’t just-- there has to be another solution! We can talk this out, Harry, whatever this is! Harry, please!”

“We both need space right now, I think.” Harry said, while staring determinedly at the grotesque looking, obnoxiously shiny umbrella stand behind Neville’s right shoulder. It was better than looking at Neville himself. He knew what Neville looked like when devastated, had seen it himself in the weeks following the graveyard. He couldn’t make Neville feel that way again, no matter how much he desperately wanted to take his words back now.

Some things you can’t unsay, and a lack of faith in a relationship, real or contrived, is one of them.

Harry dropped Neville’s hands, dodging his attempts to hold on before sprinting down the hallway to the foot of the main stairs, where he knew Ron would be waiting. He didn’t allow himself to look back over his shoulder, easily able to conjure up the look of shock that must be on Neville’s face in his mind’s eye.

“Hey, Harry.” Ron smiled grimly at him, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” Harry nodded. Was Neville still standing where Harry had left him? Should he go back to check on him? “What’s going on?”

“It’s about Hermione… She, uh, she’s having a bit of a hard time right now. Sent me to tell you something. Well, she didn’t really send me, but I’m pretty sure she wants me to tell you. Or, if she doesn’t, I think you should probably know? It seems important.” Ron grimaced.

“How come she isn’t telling me herself?” Harry frowned. “If it’s so important, then…”

“It’s her parents.” He said quickly. “You don’t need to do anything for them. She… handled it.”

“Handled it?” Harry asked. “That sounds ominous.”

“It’s… pretty ominous.” Ron agreed hesitantly.

“What did she do?” Harry asked. “I can at least ask my parents to check in on them.”

“Well, she sort of obliviated them. They don’t remember her at all.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Oh. That’s. Wow.”

“Never say she isn’t dedicated to your friendship, I guess.” Ron shrugged.

“Never again.” Harry said. “Never doubting her ever. I like my memories where they are. Inside my head. Where they belong. Wow.”

“Did you…” Hermione, who was coming down the stairs, asked Ron.

“Yeah. He’s either taking it incredibly well, or he’s in shock.” Ron turned to her.

“I love you.” Harry said, so seriously that Hermione laughed. “I am never sleeping next to you ever.”

The door swung open, revealing James Potter’s grim face. “We’re ready for you, Harry.”

“What choices do we have?” Hermione asked, looking toward the cracked open door. “At this point, everything looks the same.” 

“Well, the way I see it, we can go in and learn what’s going to happen to us at the cost of whatever scraps are left of our childhood or we can sit out here and offer ourselves up to Voldemort.” Harry said, looking to Ron. “Your choice is yours to make, since you’ve invited yourselves along for the ride. But I’m going in there.”

“If you think I’m ditching you now, after all of that? You’d have to be bloody mad.” Ron snorted. 

“If you two are going, I might as well.” Hermione teased. “Not like I did anything to confirm my role in this.”

“Yeah.” Harry snorted, a pained grimace on his face, and lead his friends to the kitchen door. “God knows the three of us have given up more than enough already.”

**Author's Note:**

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